


Cosmos and Tulips

by GoodlynneGhastly



Category: Jackskepticeye - egos, Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye - Fandom, markiplier - Fandom, markiplier - egos
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Drama, M/M, Romance, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, listen y'all are gonna hate me later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 12:38:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 27,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17683619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodlynneGhastly/pseuds/GoodlynneGhastly
Summary: Dark was a hermit of a prince, leaving his chambers only when necessary so he could study and practice his magic. Expectations for him to succeed his father and marry are at an all-time high. And when all he's done in the past is shoot down bride after bride, dowry after dowry, the dating pool shrinks even more. The prince simply isn't interested... or so they thought. Or so Dark himself thought.





	1. Chapter 1

Dark loathed his birthday.

It was supposed to be a day for celebration, and yet his father-the King-saw it fit to invite everyone in the kingdom to come and "woo" the steely prince. He has done this every year since he turned fifteen. __Fifteen__. He was a man in his twenties now! One would think the King would have ceased trying by now.

Unfortunately, for Dark, he had not. The King was a stubborn one alright. It was no mystery where he himself got it from.

"You'll find yourself a bride one of these days." is what the King kept telling him. And how was Dark supposed to let on that a bride wasn't what he was looking for? Not that Dark was actively looking, mind you. He was far too busy with his studies to care about courting or giving another person the time of day.

Call him rude, but he'd choose his private study over another living being's mere presence any day.

Sure, dismissing beautiful maiden princesses didn't make him popular among the nobles. He didn't care what the people thought of him. It wasn't as though he were kicking babies or stealing from the sickly.

Besides, he'd much rather appear picky than be exiled for "different tastes", thank you. Perhaps if he married a close female friend and explained-bah, then he'd be pitied. And that plan would also require that he befriend someone other than his nanny, and he wasn't too keen on that.

Dark could expect to be chatted up by noblemen and foreign businessmen alike looking to marry off one of their daughters all night during the party. A party that was meant to celebrate yet another year of his life. Hello, ear splitting headache.

Or he would have been, had he not been so diligent in asking that this year's party be a masquerade. It took some work, and if it weren't for his mother finding the idea to be "rather charming" then the King wouldn't have even agreed.

For once Dark was excited for his birthday. No one would know it was him that they were speaking to, and if he was lucky they'd all assume some other lad was him and leave himself well enough alone.

He had a new suit tailored for this day-outside of the castle walls, of course. Didn't want his parents or the servants seeing it and spreading word of what he'd be wearing. He told his mother he'd wear red, and his father blue. They'd each be looking out for those colors and if he were lucky, they'd suspect someone else as being him before the toast. Sneaking out of the castle was hard, thankfully his nanny covered for him. Bless her heart.

He'd be wearing neither color he described to his mother and father, for this tailcoat suit was tailored with the night sky in mind. Black, with intricate patterns embroidered along the lapels, cuffs, and the tails in a striking silver. A nice white dress shirt with ruffled cuffs was worn beneath. Throw on a jabot and his mask and he was set.

Ah, the mask.

He had read a book in his studies and learned of a beast called the jaguar. A powerful creature, and Dark had found it beautiful. This is what he based his mask off of. It matched his suit as well, black. With faint silver for the spots and around the eyes-did jaguars have spots? How was he to know? He never left the kingdom and had only hunted deer and boar in his youth.

Now, on to the party. It was in full swing. Dark's plan to go _nearly_ unnoticed was a success thus far. Didn't want to go __too__ unnoticed, he wasn't wearing this suit for nothing, thank you. Perhaps if he was feeling brave he'd do some flirting. Nothing more, of course. He didn't want to ruin the suit.

No one was suspicious of him.

"Pardon me-ah, excuse me. If I may just _sqoze_ on by here-" who could that be? They were awfully loud. And was that an accent of some sort? He felt a hand on his shoulder, carefully nudging him aside. "Sorry, sorry. Just getting a glass of wine-do you want one?" Dark had locked eyes with the man, about to speak but they were too fast for him to formulate a reply, " _Of course_ you do, I'll be right back." then he pat his shoulder.

He swore he could feel it burning. Didn't know if it was out of annoyance or disgust at having been touched by some stranger.

Regardless Dark went on, slipping through the throng of partygoers.

Who was that man and why was he not wearing his mask properly? It wasn't even _on_ , he just had it atop his head. Completely defeats the purpose of a masquerade.

And that mustache was something else entirely. He hadn't seen anything like it. Pink facial hair? Or pink hair at all, for that matter. He had heard of it, of course. Magic dyes and whatnot. There was another cause as well, but he was thinking of other things.

Namely the man's fashion sense.

The pale yellow suit looked lovely, really complimented his skin tone. Made his eyes pop. Kind of simple in design-until you saw those blood red dress shoes and that red and white striped dress shirt that he had poking out from under his coat.

He wondered if they were color blind or just really enjoyed offending the onlookers, or attracting onlookers.

What a peacock.

Dark slipped away from the crowd, rolling the encounter off his shoulders. "Kooky man..." he had just made it out onto one of the balconies when he heard that voice again.

"'Kooky'? Well thank you!" it was that man, and he was holding two glasses of red wine. "Here you are! Go on, take it. I don't bite, unless you ask me to."

Dark eyed him suspiciously, taking the glass to be polite but never letting the man out of his sight as he inspected it. Nothing odd...

"Are you a foriegner, perhaps?" Dark asked him, swirling the dark liquid.

"I am!" no wonder. "So... this is embarrassing, but what's this celebration _for_ , exactly?"

He really _was_ a foreigner, "You're joking." Now that Dark looked at him, _really_ looked at him. It was clear that this man was not a citizen of his kingdom. Here everyone had a certain look about them. Where Dark's skin was a light gray, this man sported something much more lively and, dare he say, glowy?

He was colorful as well, with mischievous pink eyes.

"If I was I'd be laughing." came the strange man's reply. "I came here on business for my father, stepped through the gates and I'm handed this ridiculous thing." he took the mask off, waving it in the air. "Doesn't fit my big noggin."

Oh. "I can see that." Dark tried not to laugh. This man was delightful. "I for one am glad it doesn't, how else would I have known I was speaking to an angel?" Methinks the prince should lay off the wine for now. He had already had a glass prior to this, and half of another before he lost track of it.

The laugh he heard made him feel... warm. Like he'd just drank a nice cup a tea on an empty stomach during a snow storm. Or that could just be the wine.

"Flattery will get you absolutely __everywhere__ , Mister Jaguar." now Dark's ears were hot, oh he hadn't expected to be flirted with __in return__. And did the man __have__ to wink?

Hush, hush. Drink your wine.

"Perhaps I'd like to go everywhere, and then some." Dark that was not drinking your wine, that was __flirting__.

The grin that he was given could have melted an iceburg, he was sure of it. "Maybe that can be arranged~"

Dark didn't respond, too flustered to do so. He'd blame the wine, yes, the wine.

"So." the stranger said after a few moments of silence. "What __is__ this celebration for?"

"It's the prince's birthday."

"Is it-I was wondering what all those flowers were for!"

"Flowers?" he echoed.

"Ah, I came with a whole carriage full. All roses, all red. The prince must really like those."

Dark visibly gagged. Roses, roses, roses. Why was it always roses? He couldn't go a day without seeing a single rose. The King loved them enough to include them in the family crest, Dark despised it. Oh he was a prince; he was formal, prim, proper. He _must_ love roses.

He didn't detest roses themselves, he only loathed that everyone assumed that he loved them.

"He doesn't." Dark replied, "Ah, I've heard talk that they aren't his favorite, I mean." excellent save.

"Oof, the King's not going to like that back home."

"Pardon?"

The stranger stood straight, "Oh where are my manners!" he set his glass down, bowing at the waist until his nose just about touched his knees. "Prince William Wilford Warfstache of the Kingdom of Flowers." he introduced himself.

O h.

Dark was flustered-he never would have pegged this man as a prince.

Wait.

Had he just been __flirting__ with a prince? And that prince hadn't been absolutely disgusted and even __returned__ it-was Dark dreaming? Or was this all going to blow up in his face?

He cleared his throat, "You know, this is a masquerade. You're doing awful at keeping your identity a secret." Dark chuckled, raising the glass to his lips. He needed some way to ease the one sided tension he felt around him.

"Well, __you're__ doing a splendid job." Wilford grinned, reclaiming his glass as he met with his gaze. " _ _Prince Dark__."


	2. Chapter 2

"Prince Dark."

Why did hearing his name on this man's tongue throw in into such a terrible tizzy? He felt warm and weakn kneed. He didn't show it. He was good at keeping his composure. But when he was standing tall and firm, his stomach was performing flips with the butterflies inside it.

He knew who he was even with this mask-but how? Dark had been so careful! Or so he believed. Had the tailor snitched on him? No, if they had the entirety of the ballroom would have caught on to him long ago.

"You..." he sighed, setting his wine down. "You knew all along, didn't you?"

It was the laughter that got him feeling less annoyed and more so at ease. It wasn't that fake, obnoxious sort of laugh that he grew up hearing. It was genuine. And Dark loved that. "I did, I did-but worry not, I'm not interested in ratting you out and tossing you out to those gaudy hounds."

That was a relief, "I take it you've experienced similar circumstances?"

This man was a prince, a prince who flirted with men-he had to have encountered Something similar in his kingdom back home.

"Somewhat, I'm only lucky that I have an older brother who's next in line instead of me. My parents only concern with me is that I take to my studies, whatever they may be."

"Must be lovely." Dark had no siblings, he grew up alone. Played alone. Studied alone. He didn't feel as though his nanny and personal servant counted. They had been hired to care for him, play with him. And for a while he preferred that. Now that he was older? He wanted... something more.

He wanted connections that weren't solely for business purposes. With people who weren't using him for his name and status. He just didn't know how to interact with anyone his own age without being paranoid or putting up a guard or some hardened facade of sorts so they would be uninclined to try and tamper with him.

"Bah, not really." he didn't say anything more on the matter, instead running his fingertips along the rim of his glass until it began to softly ring. Had Dark ever seen this Wilford fellow not moving some part of his body? Even now he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and sometimes he'd see him moving his gloved hands all about as though he were presenting something grand to him.

It was charming in Dark's eyes.

"What do you mean by that, 'not really'?"

"I never see my brother, and now there's been talk that he's beginning to grow mad. Talking to melons of all things. I'm starting to think the stress of becoming the future ruler of an entire kingdom has finally gotten to him." He made a face, shaking his head. "Nothing I can do about it though, he's still the heir and I'm not permitted to 'disturb' my own brother. No amount of attention or trophies I gather will catch my father's attention.... Bah, that's enough about me. This is your birthday."

Dark would have loved to be in Wilford's shoes-minus the crazy brother bit, of course. No expectations or pushy parents, it sounded lovely.

The grass was always greener on the other side of the castle walls, however. And this was the hand he had been dealt with. He'd just push on through and deal with it. 

"Earlier you said that the prince didn't like roses." Wilford backpedaled, catching the prince's attention. 

"I did."

"And you're the prince."

He smirked, "That I am, that's been well established... so? What exactly is it that you're trying to get at?"

"So," he leaned against the railing, "what is the dark prince's favorite flower?"

"Ah, I just knew you'd ask that, hm. If you must know... cosmos. My favorite flower is cosmos. I've only read about them in my studies, and seen sketches. I've heard there's a type that smells like chocolate. But that kind is difficult to obtain... if it does indeed exist."

Wilford hummed, "And you... do you like chocolate?"

He chuckled, "I do. Don't let the kitchen staff or any of my suitors hear you, they'll start gifting it to me and I'll be forced to eat them to avoid being 'impolite'. I'd rather not have to take this suit to get it refitted anytime soon, thank you."

"You could always work it off, and I just... happen to know of a thrilling way to do so." Wilford smirked, and just like that Dark was blushing once more. "It involves a lot of screaming and getting sticky."

He was almost certain that Wilford was coming onto him. Yes he's had this happen before, and it wasn't as though he was a virgin-but this was one of the few times where he found himself actually... enjoying the attention. Those last few times he had just simply gone through the motions just for a moment of bliss. 

It hadn't been worth it in the end.

"I..." His mouth ran dry, Dark downed the rest of his whine, thinking maybe that would bolster his courage. "Perhaps some other time, when neither of us is full of wine."

Yes, perhaps the prince was only saying such things because his judgment was skewed from the wine. It hurt Dark to think that that might have been true.

Wilford chuckled, "You're adorable."

"And you're drunk."

"Oh bugger. I'm only drunk enough to want to go make a complete and utter fool of myself on the dance floor." The way that Wilford was looking at him had Dark thinking that maybe, just maybe, that had been an open invitation for him.

And thinking that Dark found that a faint smile had made its way across his features. He hadn't smiled in so long. Thank the heavens nine of the servants knew who he was, they'd have a field day of it. 

Where had this pink prince been these past few years?

"I think I'll join you."


	3. Chapter 3

No sooner had Dark accepted him did he find himself being taken giddily by the hand and lead well off the open balcony. Back into the palace and through the throng of dancing people. For once, once, Dark wasn't worried about appearances. There was no need for him to! Why hadn't he suggested a masquerade ages ago?

"For a drunk man you really know how to move." Dark commented once they stopped, watching as Wilford turned to face him. 

"It comes with practice." He winked, holding Dark's hands. Both of them. "Who shall lead?"

"You made the proposition, and so you shall lead." He stood there, watching as Wilford seemed to fumble with where exactly to place his hands. Dark chuckled, "You don't dance much, do you?"

"I did say I was going to make a fool of myself."

Dark took Wilford's hands, placing them in the correct positions. It was practically engrained in his brain by now. All those dance lessons he had been forced to take for so many years. His instructor had been such a pain. He thought it odd Wilford didn't even know the basics, being a prince and all. Maybe they had different expectations of the royal bloodline. 

"Never too late to learn." He smiled, looking to Wilford. "Now it's just a matter of not stepping on each other's toes or bumping into any of the other dancers." 

"Oh sure, take all of the fun out of it." Wilford laughed, "Very well. I guess that I can try not to rack up any unnecessary collateral damage." He looked down to their feet, getting the gist of what exactly to do from glancing at the people around them. One could tell he was steadily gaining more and more confident as the time and the music wore on.

Dark only got stepped on once. Once! So far at least. He considered that a win. Hell, dancing with a handsome young prince was already a major win. He just felt like he won the jackpot and then some. His heart felt like it might burst right out of his chest. He wasn't used to... wasn't used to what?

Being around such a charming stranger for one. One that he liked at least. He's met plenty charming people whom he had grown to detest within five minutes of getting to know them. 

Wilford looked to be enjoying himself a rather lot now that he had a good hang on things. It sounded as though he were mumbling quietly to himself throughout it all. Counting out loud. Dark figure it was the steps in the dance or something similar. He found it endearing. 

Dark was beginning to feel rather sluggish after a while, and as much as he enjoyed dancing with Wilford he had to end it. "As much as I would just love to continue dancing with you, Wilford, I don't think I can keep up this dance much longer."

The quiet counting ceased. 

"Aww, darn. What a pity. And I was just starting to get the hang of it too." The two came to a stop, Wilford still continuing to smile at him.

Was Dark's vision acting strangely? Or was the lighting just suddenly beginning to get all... wispy. Spotty. Just plain odd. Dark put a hand to the side of his head, grunting. "Ohhh," he groaned, "I think I've had perhaps one too many glasses of wine." And just his luck it would all begin to kick in now, of all times.

"You're not looking too well, now that you mention it." Wilford had his hands on Dark's shoulders, holding him steady on his feet as he began to teeter. "You should go, get some rest."

"I should... but, ah... how do I contact you? At least let me know how long it is that you'll be staying in our neck of the woods." Dark didn't want to go and never have a chance to speak to or see Wilford again. 

Wilford paused, mulling it over. "How long, how long... now let's see here then." He drummed his fingers along the prince's lax shoulders. "It's currently undecided. But if you're so inclined.... I may just pop by for a visit during the week. Maybe then they'll be no need for masks."

Dark was thrilled. He didn't look it. He looked like he'd seen much, much better days. And Wilford didn't even have to see past his mask to tell that. It was all in his posture. And the swaying was also a dead give away as well. Dark looked like you could blow a puff of smoke at him and it'd completely topple him. "Good... good." He sighed.

"You know, I could always walk you back to your chambers. It would be to trouble at all for me. No sir. Hell I would even carry you all the way there if you just asked me to!" Wilford said, trying to get the prince to laugh some. "Tuck you in too. Nice and snug."

That did sound awfully tempting.

Really, truly, awfully tempting. 

Dark nodded, and just that gesture alone was making him dizzy. "Yes, please." His hands clung to the pink prince's fine-yet still entirely clashing and worthy of being called an utter eyesore-clothes. His stomach was doing some twists and turns, and he didn't know if it was from Wilford or the wine.

Dark had been drunk before. This didn't felt like that. At all.

"But please, try not to get us caught." He found himself laying into Wilford, face pressing to his chest as he made himself comfortable. Attempted to anyways. His head was swimming. Up a creek, no paddle, with anchors tied to his feet. So it was more like he was drowning. Not a fun experience, if he were to be honest. "Can't have people seeing us sneak off now."

"Don't worry about a thing. I'm good at getting around unseen."

"That's a relief... now please, before I add to your mess of a wardrobe."


	4. Chapter 4

Prince Dark was surprised Wilford knew his way around the palace so well. His directions weren't so good, seeing that his mind was currently swimming around along with his vision. He could hardly keep his head up. He would have gladly takeen Wilford up on that offer to carry him, had he not noticed that they were already so close. Had he lost a few moments of time? It felt like they had just started walking.

Dark was so tired.

Wilford pushed the door open, closing it behind him with his foot before helping Dark to the bed. "There we are, your gracefulness." He chuckled, watching the prince groan and remove the delicate feline mask. Wilford's breath hitched.

Dark's cheeks were flushed, lips parted with each breath he took. They twitched, corners of his mouth turning upward, a giggle escaping him. "Hah-ha, I-I'm terribly sorry you have to see me like this." He covered his face, the fabric of his gloves feeling offensive. "It's unbecoming of me." Oh what a joke of a first impression.

His giggling prompted Wilford's own, "Don't worry about it."

Dark closed his eyes, shaking his head. "No... no, heh. This is awful." He was quiet, lying there across the bed with his legs dangling off the side. The world was in a whirl, he felt like he was standing out on the deck of a ship, fighting to sail through wicked waves in a nasty storm. 

Hands were felt on him and his eyes snapped open, jerking up despite his body's protest. "What are you doing?" He blurted out, grabbing Wilford's wrists.

"I'm just taking off your coat." He told him, hands froze over the buttons. "You can't fall asleep all gussied up. It just isn't comfortable."

Dark's face was red, "... Oh." He let him continue, sitting up to pull his arms out of the coat as Wilford helped him. This put them closer together, and for that moment Dark's heart was pounding in his ears. 

The other prince caught on, chuckling. "Were you thinking I was going to take advantage of you?" He sucked his teeth, draping the coat over Dark's end table. Dark's silence gave him his answer. "No, I would never. I prefer for my bed... mates to be little more lively and aware, and you look like you could pass out any second."

"Good to know you're a decent fellow." Dark said, lifting his foot when Wilford returned to him. Swift fingers undid the laces of his boots, pulling them off one at a time.

"Of course, I'm not a monster. But I still wouldn't say 'decent'." Wilford stood, "Now, I should get going before someone comes snooping and finds me here. That'd be indecent. You just get to sleep now. You look sick as a dog."

Dark nodded, laying back among his pile of pillows. "I'll do that, thank you, Wilford." He brought the blanket over him, sighing. He felt exhausted, eyes so heavy. His body felt like a stiff lead weight.

As he closed his eyes he heard the words, "Just let the Sandman take you away now."  
\----  
He did not sleep for long, something had clearly woken him. He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly, it was far too dark to see. Moonlight filtered in through the window, through the lace canopy. The soft glow gave him just enough light to make out a tulip on his chest.

A tulip?

Now where could he have gotten that? He had a good guess.

But as much as he'd love to think about Wilford, he felt like shit. His limbs felt as though they were attached only by thin thread and spit. As though he wasn't fully in control of them. Or like he was trying to swim through molasses.

"Ugh." He forced himself to sit up, wisps of red and blue flowing lazily from him to go light his lamps. That act alone felt like a feat. Nonetheless he had light. And that's when he noticed the figure at the foot of his bed.

The window was open, that's how they must have gotten in. Wilford must have left it open to get him some fresh air. Dark froze up, staring straight into a glowing green eye. He should be yelling for a guard. He should be doing anything. But he wasn't, because he couldn't.

Dark couldn't move, not any faster than a sloth, he didn't have the energy to jump up and get some distance between them. And it showed. Sitting up had been difficult enough, and he was trying, but dammit he just. Couldn't. Move.

Like trying to run in a nightmare.

"Oh? You're awake." The stranger cackled, "Boy, don't you look like shit." He watched him reach for something under his coat. "That'll make this all the easier." He smirked, standing up tall. The air crackled around him, prickling at Dark's skin as green sparks bounced off him.

Dark opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't find the words. He rasped, unable to even grab at his throat or the blankets under him.

"Aw what? Glitch got your tongue?" Dark's eyes snapped up, his own magic struggling to manifest in self defense. What the hell was happening to him? This has never happened with one of his hangovers before. His eyes followed the stranger's hands, chills running through him as he caught the glint of the blade the closer they came.

He stared, fighting to do something. Anything. Why wasn't his body cooperating? 

Focus, take in the details. Green. Green hair, glowing green eye. Green magic. Pointed ears. Facial hair. And a scarf, wrapped tightly around his neck. All black clothing. 

He didn't recognize this man.

The knife wielding stranger was standing just a foot away now, blade brought up to his cheek so he could turn Dark's head to face him. "Man, you are out of it." He snickered, flicking his wrist. 

The prince hissed when the blade pierced his skin. And through clenched teeth he finally managed to get out. "What... do you want...?" He growled.

"What do I want?" He pulled away, laughing, "You really don't know?" He turned, fiddling with his knife and twisting it around in his grip. The foul grin he next gave him made his stomach twist and turn.

"There's a price on your head, little shadow prince." The knife was raised up, pointed right between his eyes. He brought it back, and Dark prepared himself for the blow. Was this how his tale ended? Was this how he went out? Sudden, without a warning. Like a flame extinguished without a wind to cause it.

"And I'm cashing in."


	5. Chapter 5

A shot rang out through the air, the green attacker screeching in pain as he grabbed his wounded shoulder. Dark saw the blood gushing from between his fingers, red on green. 

Wilford stood in the doorway, pistol still aimed for the man. Finger on the trigger. He'd shoot again if he must. If Anti chose to be difficult. "Not bloody likely, Anti." He said sternly, staring him down. Wilford's eyes were fierce, stabbing hot daggers into the would be attacker. These were not the eyes he had given Dark just moments ago. 

"Shit-" 'Anti' couldn't move his arm to attack now, not without causing himself excruciating pain. Dark's been shot before. So he knows the pain. All too well. "You'll fuckin' pay for this." He snarled through clenched teeth. Defeated and wounded, there wasn't much else he could do. He cast one more glare to Dark. And then he was gone. Just like that.

He left but a puff of smoke in his wake.

Dark let out a breath, one he just realized he'd been holding. "Wilford..." he was barely able to get that out. But his eyes gave the words he wanted to say quite clearly. The questions he wanted to ask.

"I had a feeling... something would happen." Wilford dismissed, staring off to where Anti had been. A scowl present of his face. "You're just lucky I was nearby."

But why had he been? The ball had to be over with by now. 

He was thankful, yes. But why still be here?

Wilford drummed his fingers over his thighs. He looked deep in thought. "... Well then!" He suddenly spouted, "How are you feeling?"

This felt odd. 

Dark could hear the guards storming down the hall. They heard the gunshot. A little too late. 

The prince before him looked to the door, sidestepping over to the bed until he was right beside him. Dark had a feeling the guards wouldn't believe a word Wilford said. Not with the gun still smoking in his hands. They loved to jump to conclusions. He's witnessed it.

He reached a shaky hand up, grabbing Wilford's sleeve. 

The touch hadn't been expected. That much was evident in the way he jumped. But it felt... comfortable. Wilford felt comfortable to him. Despite barely knowing him for a day.

The guards burst in, each one of them shouting something. Dark hated the noise. Wilford could barely get a word in himself. 

"Stop." The prince groaned out, eyelids heavier than the lead that dragged down his limbs. He had to swallow a few times, fighting to speak clearly. "He saved me. The culprit... he's long... long gone. Please-stop your damned shouting."

It was so hard to concentrate. The adrenaline from the attack had left him. His cheek stung.

"And get the doctor."  
\---  
It was a good three and a half days before Dark was up and walking again. Thanks to the doctor. He was out cold for all that time, and was just now getting a run down on what the hell was wrong with him.

"I'll have to send this sample to a colleague of mine." Dr. Iplier explained, "Just to be certain." He swirled the curious liquid in the corked vial.

"Certain of what?" Asked Dark, a hand coming to touch the gauze on his cheek. The doctor swatted at it and scolded him.

"Don't touch." He chastised, "I just want to rule out the possibility of poison. The ball was quite busy that night. All it takes is a second. A glance away from your glass is all someone needs."

"I was wearing a mask. No one knew who I-" there were a few. "... We may need to question some select individuals." He leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose. The tailor he could rule out. He doubted the old man would do anything. There was also that pesky duke. 

And Wilford.

As much as he didn't want to believe it, he couldn't rule the smooth talker out. 

It did seem too good to be true. A handsome prince just showing up out of the blue, sweeping him off his feet. Dark may have let the wine get to his head just a little too much. How many glasses had he had at the ball? He couldn't remember. 

But if it was Wilford, and he had been poisoned; why would Wilford bother rescuing him from that Anti fellow at all? Usually when one poisons another it's to kill them, is it not?

It simply didn't make any sense to the prince. 

"I've heard about that Anti. Your attacker. He's a real common threat around my colleague's parts." Dr. Iplier tsked, cleaning up his workspace. "Common, like a bug. And as devastating as the plague."

"Sounds like one potentially lethal combination, doctor. Could he have been the one to poison me?" The known murderer seemed a more likely bet, now that he thought about it.

"From what Doctor Schneeplestein has told me in conversations past, poison isn't part of his... method."

Dark watched him, seeing the doctor hesitate. "... What would be his.... 'method'?"

"I... ah, I'll spare you the details. But suffice it to say.... Brutality."

That chilled him. 

Dark could only imagine what would have occurred had Wilford not stepped in when he had. 

Iplier cleared his throat, "Now. If you wouldn't mind removing your shirt. I would like to check over your scars. See if our treatments have made them any less visible. And painful."

Dark grunted, unbuttoning his shirt. He hadn't yet been able to change into a fresh outfit. The entire palace had been in uproar once the news of the attempt on his life spread. And to be fair, he had been unconscious for a good while. "Very well, but let's make it quick."

He let the garment fall off his shoulders, awaiting for the poking and the prodding. But it never came. "Doctor?" He turned his head, and there the doctor stood, back of his hand pressed tightly against his mouth as his eyes practically bulged out of his skull. "You're looking at me like I've caught the damned plague."

"I-I apologize, your majesty. I was just shocked!" He tried to explain, "I hadn't known you found your Soulmark! Congratulations!"

What was he talking about? Dark could almost laugh. He looked down, at his shoulder. His heart suddenly felt light. Yet a knot was forming in his stomach. "Oh damn it all." He cursed. 

There, contrasting against pale gray skin. Right on his shoulder. Was the mark of a hand, fingers curled as though grabbing onto his shoulder. It was pitch black, with a bald strike along the palm where the gray could peek through. 

He knew one instance recently where someone had touched him as such. The ball. With Wilford.

He should have felt delighted. 

And yet here he was. Both yearning for and dreading the person it belonged to. 

".... This is to belong between you and I. Do you understand me?" Dark locked eyes with the doctor, who dared not to disagree. "Good..."

He couldn't believe his rotten luck. The man of his dreams, his Soulmark, could possibly be after his head on a silver platter.

"No one needs to know about this."


	6. Chapter 6

Of course Dark's parents wanted to thank Wilford themselves for saving their son. Of course. Things couldn't get any worse. How was Dark supposed to conduct himself after such shocking news? He had a SoulMark with a man who could very well be his downfall. 

Furthermore, did Wilford know? 

SoulMarks generally showed up where ever those involved first touched, clothes be damned. And you'd think that your palm would be something you'd see regularly. It'd been days, he doubted Wilford wasn't aware.

He sat silent in the study, knowing fully well that there was an elaborate banquet downstairs that was just now wrapping up. Dark might not have cared much for such display, but his parents could have at least asked him if he wanted to join them.

They were celebrating his savior, after all. He almost felt jealous. 

Nevermind that, he'd find his own way to thank him.

He eyes flit across the page, growing a little heated with the words. Perhaps he shouldn't be reading these types of books when his mind and thoughts were so jumbled. 

He heard the door open, paying it no mind. It was likely a maid. Dark was so engrossed in the book that the only warning he got that someone was behind him was the odd warmth he felt spreading through him. 

"'-and he took him there, atop the desk. Paperwork long forgotten in their passion-'"

Dark slammed the book shut, a familiar deep laughter filling his ears. Filling him with a comfortable warmth. "Wilford." He didn't need to look to know it was him. He's read about this. How two SoulMarks could sense whenever the other was around.

"Good afternoon, Prince Dark." The man chuckled, "Interesting book you got there. Is this what you study in your free time?" This time Dark did look, eyes immediately checking for his hands. Just to find that he was sporting a pair of gloves. Along with a smirk, but that was well beside the point.

"Did you need something?" He had to remember that Wilford was still a suspect. He couldn't let his guard down for even a second. 

"I wanted to see how you were doing, of course! I thought you were a goner for sure, you looked terrible... and then Anti!" Wilford leaned away, waltzing over to one of the large windows to peer out of it. "I've heard of that horrid little green man, never thought I'd ever see him myself. Gave me a fright."

Dark hummed, looking back to the study door. It was closed. They were alone in the room, just the two of them. Dark didn't fancy feeling cornered like this. It all felt too tense.

But, if Wilford was his SoulMark he needed to know. To go on much longer and not knowing something so vitak-he wouldn't stand for it. Whether Wilford had poisoned him or not. And being alone as they were provided the perfect opportunity to investigate.

There was, of course, a chance that he hadn't been poisoned at all. But knowing his luck that wasn't likely. And Wilford had the opportunity as well. At the ball. When he offered him a glass of that wine. Dark might not have smelled anything off, but what would he know? He was no expert on poisons.

".... Is something troubling you?" Wilford actually sounded concerned. It made him feel awful for suspecting him.

The prince stood up, "Take off your gloves." He had to know. No beating around the bush. 

"Whatever for?" Wilford balked, hand to his chest. "That's an odd request, even for me!"

"Remove them." He repeated, taking that step forward that brought them face to face. Chest to chest. Too close. Far too close. But Dark wasn't backing down. 

Wilford glanced to his gloves, "... Only if you say 'please'." He pursed his lips, wiggling his gloved fingers in his face. 

The prince glared at him, "Please." He said through clenched teeth.

Wilford, satisfied, slipped his gloves off.

But they were naked. No mark on either palm. Not a trace. Dark's heart fell. He had been so sure-and he was wrong? "No-it can't be." He voiced, grabbing Wilford's wrist, scrubbing his fingers against his palm. Powder! He had to be concealing it! 

"What are you doing?"

Dark couldn't believe how desperate he had grown. He hadn't even known the man for a week. And yet he was so ready to... to what? Fall in love? Be wed? Was he that desperate for someone to love? 

"Dark... are you crying?" Wilford's voice spoke softly. He hadn't even realized. Dark had been so sure that Wilford was the one. He's all he never knew he wanted, wrapped up in a ridiculous pink bow. He felt this connection between them. Or at least, he thought he did. Now he wasn't so sure. 

If this man wasn't his SoulMark then who could it possibly be? Or... and he dreaded the mere thought. It was a rare circumstance, but he wouldn't doubt that it would happen to him. His soulbond could be entirely one-sided. Which meant he was, well, screwed. 

Dark dropped his hand, looking down and away. "Don't be ridiculous." He said stiffly, forcing the tears down. Bottle them up. Dark had always been good at that. "It's only the dust." He turned away from him, collecting his things. "I just remembered. I have some things to tend to. I can't push it back any longer." His satchel felt like lead. "How long do you intend to stay with us?"

Wilford blinked, completely cowed by the sudden change in the prince's behavior, "Your... their majesties wish to arrange a festival. They're quite adamant about me staying till then."

"The Flower Festival." Dark nodded, "Then I bid you goodnight." Then he was gone. Crumbled walls towering high once more. And he wasn't going to let them be broken down another time. His heart was stuck in his throat, he felt as though he could vomit. 

Things just couldn't go his way for once, could they?


	7. Chapter 7

Dark lowered himself into the hot spring, leaning back against the carved stone with a heavy sigh. This was perhaps his favorite gift from his parents. His own private hot spring, to which he had the only key. They had it constructed when he began complaining about his sore back after getting bucked off a horse-long story.

It was soothing. 

Comfortable.

It even had a separate room for him to have a lie down or reapply his makeup after the relaxing waters washed it off.

He could see the powder leaving him even now. Whatever skin that wouldn't be concealed by clothing, he covered in a gray powder. Even the strongest glamor stones could only do so much for so long. Hair, eyes. Those were easy. He could put up with the powder.

Dark slipped the braided cord from his neck, black stone swirling with whites and grays before he laid it down beside him on the stone. He leaned back, staring at the mural on the ceiling as his eyes returned to their natural hues. One brown, the other hazel. 

It was a pleasing mural, mostly inspired by the night sky. With white twinkling crystals embedded in the stone that reacted to his magic. If he wanted to he could have them lit up like sunshine on thick snow. Blinding. But he didn't. He kept them dim for now.

No longer under the glamor his hair took to new tones of black. Split exactly down the middle like the rest of him was. One side warm with red undertones, and the other cool with blue. 

His skin, though pale on either side, varied the slightest bit in shade. The freckles are what made it the most obvious, taking to mainly the warmer side. Not that that side was completely covered, the freckles were rather faint and sparse. Yet completely absent on the other side. 

'Chimera' is what their older doctor called it. 'Heinous' said by his own flesh and blood. As though it were his fault he came out like this. 

He grunted, fingering the bandage on his cheek. It had healed over, thanks to the Doctor's abilities. The bandage was mainly to catch the blood as it did so. The Doctor could only do so much, he couldn't make spilt blood return to a wound. 

He flicked it off to be discarded, feeling the raised scar. Healed. And it would fade quick. If it didn't his mother would send the Doctor to the stocks. Which was ridiculous.

Dark allowed himself a moment to relax. Until he sighed, "Alright, let's discuss."

And with that he felt a rush, cool and warm energies flowing from his body to form two human shapes. One male and the other female. This is what the heirs to the throne would have looked like, had he not come out like this.

He hadn't told anyone of this. How would he explain it? 'Hello Mother, hello Father. I like to talk to the magic manifestations of your would-be twins'. He'd be sent to the loony bin.

He had even named them. Damien and Celine. Or was it technically them naming themselves? Bah, it was magic. No need to try and fit too much logic into it.

"Why did you leave it like that?" Celine was the first to speak, arms crossed over her chest as she loomed above the water's surface. "You could have explained the situation-"

"Explained what?" Damien barked, Dark's eyes flicking to the blue figure. "How he thought Wilford was his Soulbond and made a mistake? That'd be nothing short of humiliating!"

"It'd have been better than leaving him confused!" 

Dark sank down further into the water, until he was just about down to his nose. They often bickered like this whenever Dark was having inner conflict. And although it was entertaining, more often than not they left him with an awful headache.

"We haven't even known him for that long, Celine! Heavens-are you even listening to yourself?"

Celine's volume escalated, "I feel like I have!" the crystals flickered with her wavering voice, now growing softer. "You feel like you have, we all feel like we have. Isn't that enough?...." she sighed, frustration clear as day on her translucent face. "I just don't know who else it could be...."

Damien didn't say anything, not at first. "I think..." Celine snapped her eyes up, already knowing what j  
he was about to say and willing him 'Don't'. "Well... that 'Anti' fellow did grab our shoulder."

Dark rose up, "No, absolutely not." he scowled, mirroring Celine's own look.

"I agree. Maybe for another twist on the fated webs, but not this one."

Damien grew coy, "What's wrong? Green not your color? I think he's handsome. When he's not threatening to end our lives, that is."

"And aside from that..." Dark leaned back, looking to his shoulder where the mark lay. "I didn't feel half of the things I'm feeling with Wilford with that... character." he laid his hand over it, spreading his fingers to occupy the space between the mark's. He sighed, "I think it's time to come to terms with it... it's one sided."

"Oh bullshit, so what?" Celine scoffed, "Doesn't mean we can't still court him. Kiss him. Hold hands with him. Lay with him-"

Damien rolled his eyes and butt in, "Are you forgetting that he could very well have been the one to poison us?"

"Course not!" she answered him, hands proud on her hips. "That's all part of the adventure!" she winked, eliciting a groan from Dark. "I do love myself the strong, exciting type. And what's more exciting than turning your would-be murderer into a partner? Or die trying?"

"Living, and finding out that he's not out to get me and hang my hide out to dry. Thank you." Dark grunted, to which Damien agreed.

"Although... he is rather handsome. And dying would be better than being forced into a loveless marriage with a first cousin." to this they all gagged.

Dark rubbed his eyes, leaning forward in deep thought. "With that aside... how should I proceed?"

The twins shared a look, eyes falling back on the prince as they both answered him. "With caution."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (*cough* I have a patreon for my art now, I was thinking about making a tier include like, lil fic snippits from upcoming projects. anyhow if you'd like, check it out. it's p empty cuz I just started it this month, rip. https://www.patreon.com/GoodieGhosty )

Sometimes Dark needed a cane. It was as simple as that. Every so often, for a few days or so, he'd get a pain in his left knee. Nothing too worrying. The cane just made walking easier on him. 

At the moment he was seated, pulled up next to a window in the study with a hefty book in his lap. No romance novels today. He was doing research. After having a little chat with his parents about his savior things just weren't making all that much sense. Details had been fuddled and mixed up. Wilford had told him one thing and his parents another, and he was keen on discovering what was the truth. The old fashioned way.

With dusty old books and paper cuts.

He had given his parents a name of a kingdom that Dark of course assumed he had made up on the spot. Even though he had told him he was from the kingdom of flowers. Which was another thing: the Kingdom of Flowers was the name of a popular florist. 

If Dark had made a wrong assumption in believing Wilford was actual royalty that was fine, but that didn't explain why Wilford would tell his parents that his family ruled... 'Manoriac'? That even looked made up when it was written down. And yet there was a book on its history. So perhaps it actually did exist.

He flipped through the pages, faltering.

Or had.

It turns out the entire kingdom had up and vanished into thin air not fifty years ago. Now Dark has heard of powerful rulers being able to cloak entire kingdoms and hide them from sight. It wasn't unheard of. But for so long? What could they possibly be trying to hide themselves from?

The book didn't say. That was the very end of it.

Dark frowned, closing the book and leaning back in his chair. Wilford Warfstache was beginning to look like an enigma wrapped up in a puzzled bow. And he wasn't liking it.

"Working hard?"

Dark started, slapping his palms hard down on the table top with a solid 'thwack'. He didn't have to turn around to see who it was. "Are you going to make a habit out of sneaking up on me like this?"

There was chuckling, and soon Wilford had pulled up a chair, getting up close and personal with the prince. "Only if you keeo making it so easy.... What're you reading?"

There was no way in Hell Dark was going to tell Wilford that he had suspicions about him. Especially not when they were alone. He wasn't an idiot. "I overheard my mother spouting some nonsense about some kingdom, I got curious." he could sense Wilford tensing up at his side, hands gently brushing the unused ink well and quills aside as he tidied up. Kept his hands and mind busy. "Don't know why she's gained such an interest in a place that's long since vanished."

"Well," Wilford shifted, crossing one leg over the other. "You know how bored mothers can be."

"Is yours anything like that?"

There was silence. Dark had the feeling he touched on a sensitive subject, set to retract his question but Wilford was faster. "My mother left us years ago. After she had my half brother with-" he bit his tongue, literally bit it. "-with... the new king. I suppose this wasn't the life she wanted for herself."

That was odd, Dark had sworn he heard Wilford say he had an older brother.

"Is your half brother the one with-forgive me-the melon madness?" he inquired, digging just a tiny bit. All these misplaced details-it wasn't looking good for Wilford.

"Oh yes, Walter." his eyes lit up, hands flitting over the front of his shirt. Was there dust? "He-well since he's the current king's only son he's in favor to rule. It's a lot of pressure, you see."

Dark didn't say anything. He wasn't about to let out that he was onto him. But it was still disheartening. He had really been hoping to clear Wilford of the suspicions. 

"The Flower Festival!" Wilford blurted out, sitting up straight. A complete topic change that came from nowhere. It almost caught Dark off guard, but he was glad for the change.

"Yes? What about it?" he turned his chair towards him, a mistake. Wilford looked so cute when he was all so frazzled. He wanted to pull him in for a good kiss right there. But that wouldn't be appropriate. And would likely end with a knife in his back.

"What sort of festivities take place during the Flower Festival?"

"Ah. Well for starters there's a lot of dancing. Drinking. Poetry. The main event is a parade. You and I will likely have to sit on a float together. Seeing as I'm the Prince and you're the guest of honor." On top of dancing together, sitting together, pretty much being wedged together from the very start of the party. It would give Wilford plenty opportunity to off him. He just knew it.

The festival was going to be a nightmare.

"Will I have to wear anything fancy?" he asked, "I didn't anticipate on staying so long, you see. It was just supposed to be a simple, quick thing. With the flowers."

Yeah, the flowers.

"No, no. What you have will do. I would recommend having them washed beforehand though." it felt odd to be talking so calmly with someone who might very well be planning to kill him.

But did Dark really care? Did he mind that these might just be his last days? He didn't feel like he did. Sure, he liked living. It was nice, he guessed. He didn't like all the expectations though. All the constant pressure from his parents, from his people. 'Get married', 'have children', 'rule'. It was all so draining.

And he thought he found something that made it worthwhile.

But if Wilford wasn't his soulbond then he didn't really know what to do with himself. 

"I'll come get you when it's an hour from starting." Dark decided, "So don't stray too far from the guest chambers." 

Why did he feel so antsy?

"We'll walk in together." Wilford smiled.

"Yes, together." except not quite.


	9. Chapter 9

The day of the festival had arrived and Dark wasn't all too sure if he was dreading it or not. He could very well be dead by the end of the day. By Wilford's own bullet. 

Dead or not, Dark donned his suit, the very same one he wore at the ball. He wouldn't mind falling whilst wearing this. At least he'd fall in style. It would be a shame to get it all bloodied though. It shocked him how willing he was to keel over. Why? Why was he acting like such a welp? Just because he was wrong about thinking some handsome foreign prince wanted to whisk him away somewhere? What has happened to him?

His leg was acting up, which was just dandy. He'd have to bring one of his canes along with him. And he chose his special cane, the one with the hidden blade in the handle. He didn't say he'd be going down too easily now. Dark was going to make Wilford work for it.

The powder was set and his glamour stone was in effect. The prince was ready for his death day. And he'd make sure that it was one to behold.

One way or another.

He was a bit nervous, he couldn't lie, as he made the walk to go fetch Wilford. Each step made his cold heart seize up and ache. How he loathed it. It would have been fine if he didn't know that his bond was one sided. Why did he have to find out so soon? Why couldn't he just allow himself just a few more days of ignorant bliss? 

A few more days of innocent love and the possibility of it being returned. Now that he knew his fantasies of being wed and sharing the same bed left a sour taste in his mouth.

He rapped his gloved knuckles against the wood, resting his weight on the cane. 

Moments passed.

Wilford sure was taking a long time to answer, "Did I not tell him I'd come get him?" he scoffed, knocking once more.

And now there was an answer, a groan of, "Come in!" 

Dark rolled his eyes, pushing the heavy door open and keeping his eyes down, just in case Wilford wasn't decent. "The Festival will be beginning shortly-" okay so maybe he ended up taking a glance upwards and catching an eyeful. He averted his gaze, "It's not even nightfall and yet the moon is here with us, I see."

Wilford cracked out a laugh as he got dressed, "I don't see much issue with it! We're both men. Well," they both looked to the bed, and a scowl flashed across Dark's features. "Except her."

There was a woman, likely one of the servants, sleeping in the bed. Naked. 

Dark should have let it be. He should have. But SoulBonds made you do ridiculous things. "Ah." he said simply, cane held tightly in his grip. "I don't see any woman's clothes...?"

"Oh we lost those in the garden." Wilford giggled.

"Pity." while the other man dressed, Dark approached the bed, grabbing the pitcher from the bedside table. He didn't know if it was jealousy that fueled him, or irritation. He held the pitcher just above the bed, where the sleeping woman rested. Blissfully unaware of the rude awakening that was only mere moments away from happening.

And when he poured it out he had the sternest, coldest look about him.

The servant girl jerked awake, gasping like a fish and ready to give something a good talking to. Until she saw just who had awoken her. Dark could only imagine what was going through her mind. She looked pale. It wasn't everyday one got woke up by the Prince piuring water on them. 

Dark stayed there until the last few drops dribbled out. He tsked, dropping the pitcher in her arms. 

"Your magesty! I-"

"It would seem this is in need of a refill." he stepped away, fixing his tie in the mirror. "Be a dear, won't you? And take the sheets, they're filthy."

"Prince Dark, perhaps I-" he silenced her with a wide arc of his arm, hand held out to the door as it flew open-the wrong way, oops-and banged against the wall. Someone would need to fix that. 

"Begone." he barked, glowering at the woman as she gathered the soggy sheets around her and fled with his eyes glaring daggers into her back. When she was gone the door swung closed, hinges weak and wood splintered.

Wilford, witness to this all, stared for the longest while. His hands had faltered on his shirt buttons, frozen. "... Do you act like that towards all the servants?" he whistled.

Dark rolled his eyes, hand lowering yet still sparking with his magic. "Only the incompetent ones. Today is a special occasion. All servants are required to wake early for preparations." that wasn't the reason though, and he had a feeling Wilford knew that. He turned to face him, huffing when he noticed his state of dress.

Dark was walking towards him before he even realized it. "We should get there early." he told him, hands fastening the buttons near expertly. 

"I get the feeling you're a little cross with me." Wilford commented, and at that Dark cast him a glare. Of course he was cross at him. But what point was there in being upset with someone for possibly not sharing your feelings? None. Wilford didn't owe him anything, and vice versa.

"Only because you've put us behind my planned schedule." he lied, "Grab your jacket and we can be off." and he went to move away, but a firm hand on his waist stopped him. "Wilford-" he had Dark pressed flush against his chest now, and Dark couldn't bear to think that he could feel just how fast his heart was beating through his chest.

"I thought I broke through that mask of yours at the ball..." Wilford held a hand to his cheek, sighing, "Oh dear prince... how many more do I have to chip through?" if his plan was to seduce him into dropping his guard Wilford was, well, nearly succeeding. But this was a game two players could play, and Dark had the dice.

"You mean..." Dark leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering closes as he sighed. "Until you can get me in the sheets?" he opened them again, just barely, gazing up at the pink 'prince' through thick lashes. He saw the smirk on Wilford's face and before he coukd get a word in he jabbed the end of his can down on his foot. "Plenty now." he said with a scowl, watching him as he reeled back and hissed. 

It was his turn to smirk, "Perhaps next time you'll rethink about who you ask to join you when your bed grows cold."

Wilford sucked in a breath, "Point taken." yes that hadn't been a smart move on his part.

"Good, don't make me make more." he warned.

His cheek still tingled. Wilford's hand had felt so warm against his skin. He... missed it? What kind of thought is that to have?

Dark cleared his throat, "Let's get to the festival grounds." yes, before he got too far involved in his own half baked thoughts.

"Where are those again?"

"Down by the piers." Dark didn't know why he grew uneasy once he saw Wilford smile at those words.

"Perfect! I love the ocean!"


	10. Chapter Ten

(Sorry this too so long, ya gal got a job oof)

Dark couldn't have felt more on edge.

He had forgotten all about the festival traditions. Normally, under other circumstances, a prince in his position would have been tasked with milling about and schmoozing with the notable attendees. Dancing with each of them. But as this was a special case with a very "important" guest of honor, his "savior", those traditions were pushed aside.

Now he was told to stick to Wilford's side throughout the whole thing. And he should have felt relieved that he didn't have to kiss up to a duke or duchess for a dance. But knowing what Wilford was capable of? Being near the man for so long was killing him.

In more ways than one.

There also wasn't going to be a parade, sadly.

He found his hand subconsciously fiddling with a bit of embroidery on his shoulder. The same one with his mark. It was burning under all this fabric. Having Wilford near-he wanted to touch him. Lean into his arms. Rest his head against him.

Even if it meant having a gun put to him. 

Though he doubted Wilford would be mad enough to make an attempt on his life with so many witnesses. 

So perhaps it was a good thing they were seated together on this balcony overlooking the festivities. In plain sight.

From beside him he could hear Wilford taking a deep, content breath. "I love the smell of the ocean." he sighed, relaxing in his seat. "Don't you?"

Dark did not respond, too deep in thought. His arms draped over the railing, the prince leaning forward as he scanned the cheerful crowd. These were his people. And yet he didn't feel as though he... deserved them? He's heard all of what they've had to say about him. He's cold, cruel. Stiff. Spoilt. That he had ice in his veins and a stone where his heart should be. 

It was all a façade and they didn't know it. They'd never know. 

His parents did their best to paint him as the perfect child. The perfect prince. Smart, skilled, handsome. They made him push away aspects of himself that he enjoyed and cherished. That he thought made him unique. He loathed it.

His people deserved a prince who was braver than that. What kind of prince was he that he couldn't even stand up to his own parents? He didn't want to leave this world having his people believe him to be something he wasn't.

"Prince Dark?" Wilford repeated.

And now Dark looked to him, finding the pink man staring. "Yes?" 

Wilford drummed his fingers around the rim of the large shallow bowl between them. "What's this for?" in it was a good amount of water, infused with sweet smelling flower petals and some kind of fruit. 

"Purely decoration-" Dark had a thought. As he stared down into the perfumed water and his reflection stared back. 

If he wanted his people to see him differently in his final moments there was one good place to start.

He was already crying for his poor suit. Though it really was just water, so there wouldn't be much of an issue.

Dark glanced behind them. The door to the balcony was shut, and he knew there were guards on the other side of it. There was no where for Wilford to go but over the railing or through those doors. And Dark had had enough of keeping everything to himself.

There was no point in delaying what was to happen.

He stood up, "Wilford." Dark held his cane under his arm. "I know you're here to kill me." 

And suddenly the smile was gone from Wilford's face. Dark didn't think he's ever seen him look so... serious. Except the night Anti attacked. He expected at least some amount of denial. A refusal. Or at the very least a confused expression. But there was none of that, and as he noticed Wilford's fingers twitch at his sides he knew it was because he hit the nail on the head.

That was not the face he fell for.

Before a weapon could be pulled Dark spoke up, "Before anything else... I have one final request."

"As they all do." Wilford clicked his tongue, scowl ever present on his face. He looked like a cat that had been deadset on toying with the mouse just to have it slip out of his paws. "And what would the prince like?"

Dark peeled off his gloves, letting them fall to his feet. "Just to piss off my dear mother and father one last time before I leave this rotten existence." Wilford wasn't expecting that answer, but the devilish grin let Dark know that he could continue. He didn't know what kind of conversations Wilford had had with the queen and king, but it was abundantly clear that he wasn't all that fond of them either. Perhaps he could see through the lies as well.

He removed his suit jacket, draping it over his seat. 

"I gotta admit, I wasn't expecting it to go on for so long like this." 

"I can tell." Dark told him, "Your story had more holes than an old sweater after fencing practice. No offense, of course. I'm sure you're a professional." that got a laugh out of him.

"Something like that."

The prince turned towards the bowl, hand clutching at the glamour stone hanging from his neck. When he snapped it off you almost wouldn't notice the difference in his hair. But his eyes were plain to see. Hazel and brown. He dropped the stone to the ground, where it cracked. Little black wisps puffing out and dispersing into the air with its magic.

He wasn't finished.

Dark gripped the bowl with both hands, finding it unwieldy. "Do me a favor, ring that bell beside you." Wilford glanced over, shrugging to himself before he took the cord and jerked it to and fro. The bell rang loud and clear, the festival below them slowing to a stop. With the bowl now clear over his head he addressed them, "Right, now that I have your attention..."

He was aware that he looked like a right mad man. Lifting a heavy wooden water basin above his head like this. He could see his parents on the balcony across from him. His mother was glaring at him so hard that he nearly threw in the towel right there. Years. Years of caking on gray powder. Years of being told that he was an abomination. Years of constant ridicule for something he couldn't control.

Years of battling with his own internal monologue.

Well, no more. The prince was not going to go out coated in lies.

And with his eyes locked with his mother's, he dumped the water. The prince doused himself in the sweet scented liquid. Wet petals stuck to his skin. The powder washed away. 

And there he stood. The prince of their kingdom. Heir to the throne. A being who was split down the middle clear as day. Covered in pale pink petals from the water that soaked him. 

He dropped the bowl, fixing his jabot but not bothering to dry himself. "That is all." He grabbed his coat, cane in hand as he turned. "Come, Wilford. It seems I need a change of wardrobe." a good excuse as any to get away from the festival.

Wilford was quick to his feet, joining Dark on his way. He spoke quietly into his ear, "What are you up to?"

"If you plan on killing me this isn't the place to do it, unless you wish to he caught." he whispered to him, "You really didn't think this through, did you? What kind of assassin are you?"

"I'm not-" Wilford sucked in a breath, standing straight as the doors opened on the guards standing post. "Helloooo!" he greeted, chipper. "The prince just needs to freshen up, I'll escort him. No worries~" he sang, hand coming to grip Dark's shoulder. It wasn't hard. Or soft. But firm.

Almost comforting.

The mark was practically singing now. Dark could feel it. Part of him wished Wilford could as well. But as they continued to walk, the hand still on his shoulder, he knew that he couldn't. When they were far from the guards, down the stairs standing in a side entrance that would open out into a twisting, turning maze of dark alleyways, the prince spoke up. 

"If you plan on killing me, I'd suggest you do it now." he spat, gripping the handle of his cane tightly, ready to unsheath the hidden blade.

"Kill you?" Wilford was chuckling, "Who said anything about killing you?"

Dark grew confused. He didn't understand. If Wilford wasn't going to end his life then why go along with it? 

Suddenly the alley looked far more crowded. Cloaked figures standing around just beyond the door. There'd be nowhere for Dark to run. And the guards wouldn't stand a chance against so many. The only thing keeping Dark safe was the wood between them, but then that left Wilford. The man who stood right behind him, hand still on his shoulder.

Dark was screwed.

"You're worth far more to us alive."


	11. Chapter Eleven

Pirates.

Why didn't he see it before. Of course Wilford was a damn pirate. He should have seen that coming from a mile away. It was always pirates, wasn't it. The red and white strips should have been the first clue. 

He growled as he was lead along, through the alleyways. Discreetly. No reason to raise a fuss. Not until they were out in the open and Dark had a better chance of escape and could better defend himself. 

"Don't take it personal, my sweet prince-" Dark jerked his shoulder free from Wilford's hold, shooting him a glare.

"I am not your anything." he scowled, earning a pout in return. As well as a couple of snickers from the crew. "What is this all for? Ransom?" it was a lucrative act for sure. A kingdom with one heir to their name couldn't afford to lose them. It made sense for them to shill out mountains of gold to ensure their safety.

"Oh, no no! You heard Anti, didn't you?" Wilford nudged Dark forward, "Someone put a price on your head. Lucky you, they want you alive and well." 

Who would have done that? Sure Dark's pissed a lot of people off by rejecting them, but he couldn't think of anyone who would go to such lengths. At the moment. He had much more important things on his mind. Like how many of these pirates he could take out before they overpowered him. 

Or how many weapons were currently just seconds away from being sunk into his flesh. 

"Who wants me that badly?" Dark eyed Wilford.

"Not important, keep moving." 

He glared, hand tightening around his cane. He thought it was incredibly important. 

They kept walking, and eventually they were out in the open. At the docks. Dark could see a ship at the port. Large. Intimidating. Impressive. Of course they didn't have their true colors showing. They weren't stupid. 

Where was everyone?

Usually there would be fishermen and workers milling about. But Dark couldn't see a single one. Did they... 

A shiver ran down his spine at the thought that they might have disposed of any potential witnesses. Maybe they were all at the festival? He hoped so.

Focus. 

The prince surged forward, making a break for it. No one expected him to run towards where they were taking him. Dark counted on that. You'd expect someone to run back the way the came. But he didn't want to lead them back to his people, knowing how pirates were. 

He could hear them behind him, shouting, cursing. Scrambling to catch him. Even the pain in his knee couldn't make Dark slow down. Where could he run? Where could he go? He couldn't go back. Not to his home. To the festival. No where in the kingdom would be safe, for him or his people. He wasn't going to set a pack of angry pirates loose on the kingdom.

It'd be best to flee.

And there was only one direction he could go.

The open sea.

"Author!" Wilford's voice rang out clear, and suddenly a figure appeared from the ship.

And Dark stopped.

He couldn't move. 

He only discovered why when the figure drew closer, hearing their voice before he saw their face. Their words binding him to the spot, taking control of his limbs. 

"'The prince stops in his tracks, unable to move from the spot on the pier.'" they said, reaching for their hood. The man before him looked into his eyes, and it felt as though he were peering into his very soul. It chilled him to the core. He's never experienced anything like this. "'He will stay here, on this spot. Until the Captain comes to get him. And then he will go with him willingly.'" 

No.

No he would not.

Whoever this man was, his powers were weak. Dark could feel it. Sense it. 

His eyes bore into the Author's, red and blue taking over. He could feel his magic flaring, bubbling up inside him. Boiling over with years of bottled up hatred and emotions. 

For years he had let others tell him what to do. Well, no more. This was a new chapter in his life. And he wasn't going to stand for it.

"What are you doing-'the prince,'" Author growled, glaring intensely as Dark began to move. Slowly, like he was wading through syrup. But moving nonetheless. "'stays put.'" it was no use, Dark was stubborn. And as soon as he overpowered him he snapped forward, hands grabbing either side of the Author's face. 

"No, he does not." Dark scowled, magic surging through his palms. From one to the other, straight through the man's skull. He felt a spike in his abilities, heard the crackling, followed by a piercing scream. He didn't know what he just did. But it was a great surge of energy.

And whatever it was it caused the man's eyes to bleed.

It must have been too much. 

"I'm sorry-" Dark released him. He really was. He didn't mean to do that-whatever it was. He was only frightened. "I didn't-"

Author collapsed, hands clawing at his eyes. And Dark could hear the angry shouts from the crew. He had to flee. Now. Why they hadn't attempted to nab him then, he didn't know. Perhaps they were too confident in the Author. Or had been in shock.

Regardless, he didn't look back as he dashed down the docks, jumping into the first rowboat he came across. 

He only hoped he still had enough magic reserved to pull this off. 

With one hand gripping the seat beneath him and the other poised, palm out, at the water, Dark used his powers to propel the boat forward. Away from the docks. Away from his home.

Away from Wilford.

Maybe in another life they could be together. But not this one. 

It pained Dark to think that. But what hurt the most was knowing he didn't feel the same.   
\--  
"Well, fuck." Wilford hissed, glaring out at the prince as he made his get away. Surprisingly fast. It made him wonder just how powerful he really was.

That and the downed crew member currently writhing on the dock.

"Author?" he cursed, kneeling down beside him as the man sobbed. Blood streamed down his face, leaking through the cracks between his fingers. "Will you be alright?"

He hissed, jerking away from the captain. "No! No I won't be alright!" he shrieked, "I can't fucking see!"

Wilford relented, grabbing hold of the Author's wrists to pull them away from his eyes. What he saw made his stomach churn. He's seen this once before. Power corruption. When one magic user overloads another and completely fucks over their alignment. Makes them unbalanced. Author wasn't bleeding blood, he was bleeding his essence. If they couldn't help him he could become so unstable that he-

Wilforf released his hands, standing up. He didn't want to think about it. It only brought back painful memories. Of Walter.

It was quiet. For a bit. Until another crewmate spoke. "What now, Captain?"

"... Bring Author on board. Get that doctor to treat him. Threaten him if you have to." he knew there was a reason they kidnapped that healer. "We set sail, now. Before anyone realizes the prince is missing and the kingdom goes on lockdown."

The prince just had to go and make this more difficult.

Luckily, Wilford loved a good challenge.


	12. Chapter Twelve

Dark had gotten a good distance between him and the docks by the time he tapped out. He slumped down in the boat, allowing himself to catch a breather. At least he couldn't see them anymore. But he shouldn't get too comfortable. A ship their size would have no trouble catching up, with the wind on their side. 

He sat up, staring out at the horizon. The sun was now setting. Pinks and yellows, purples. It was beautiful. He only hated that he couldn't truly appreciate it. What a rotten day.

His soulmate was a pirate. And he may have killed a person. He didn't know what he did, but he could only hope that Wilford knew he didn't mean it-what was he thinking? Wilford didn't care. So why should he? He wanted to kidnap you, Dark. Get your priorities straight.

He took hold of the paddles, resigning himself to rowing. To clear his head and keep up the distance. How far could the nearest island be anyhow?  
\--  
Wilford stepped below deck, the ship was moving now. Had been for a while. Slowly. They didn't want to sail out too far off Dark's trail. He made his way off, to where they decided it'd be best to keep their wounded crew member.

His right hand man.

Blinded and maybe even worse.

"How is he?" he asked the doctor, who jumped at his voice. "Oh calm down. As long as you're useful I won't need to hurt you." 

Dr. Iplier stammered, hands fumbling with the bandages, soaked in red essence. "I'm sorry, I-I did what I could. I've healed most of the magic damage. But I can't stop the leaking. I'm sorry." did the doctor ever stop apologizing? It was starting to grate his nerves. "I'm more of a physical doctor, not magical. That-that's way out of my area of expertise."

"Will he be alright?" Wilford could hardly look at Author. He wasn't used to seeing his usually snarky face all twisted up in pain. Wasn't used to not getting some sarcastic remark out of him either. 

The Author was, for once, silent.

"I mean-yes? And no-listen. He's leaking essence here. I'm worried that his powers might start effecting everything around him. Even when he doesn't mean them to." it was a very complicated ordeal. The doctor hoped the captain was pleased with his answer. 

Wilford pulled up a chair, pointing to the door and the skittish doctor fled the room immediately. Leaving the two of them alone. And eagerly, mind you. 

Neither of them spoke.

They didn't have to.  
\--  
It was beginning to grow dark, by the time Author said anything. Not that Wilford knew. He hadn't left his side to check. The only light they had came from the faint flicking flame of the lantern beside them. "Wil." he croaked, voice hoarse from hours of pain wracked sobbing. 

"He speaks! I was just starting to think you'd gone mute too." a smirk split onto his face, his good friend laughing sourly. It was nice to know they could still joke about, despite the circumstances. 

"You wish." Author's smile slowly turned down, looking to the floorboards above their heads in quiet contemplation. He could hear the crew milling about the deck. Business as usual.

Wilford knew something was on his mind. But he wouldn't push it.

He wouldn't need to.

"Wilford." he started again, fingers tracing the edge of his bandages. Soaked. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Wilford hadn't a clue what Author was talking about. Okay, so maybe he did. He let out a sigh, "I'm sorry, old friend. I thought you knew... that gold streak looks atrocious-" he cackled, a rouge roll of bandages bouncing off his noggin. "Your aim is as spot on as ever."

"Wilford." he warned, pushing himself up to sit. Despite the clear instructions the doctor had given him. He grunted, head swimming, but the sensation soon faded. "You know what I'm talking about. Don't make me make you show me."

And now the joking atmosphere was gone.

The pirate captain grimaced. He knew he never should have attempted to keep something like that from Author. Especially knowing his abilities.

He looked to the door, making sure it was closed. Didn't want anyone getting nosy and eavesdropping. And now he looked down, at his hands. Gloves still in place. 

"You know I won't tell a soul." Author reasoned, "But we should talk about it." especially considering the circumstances. 

Wilford sighed, and for the first time in far too long, he dropped his façade. With the drop of his glove his appearance took on another form. Runes covered him from head to toe. Carved into his flesh. Long since healed and scarred over. Years old but he still remembered how he gained each one as though it was only yesterday. What they represented.

His ears were pointed and his eyes appeared all the brighter. Every hair on his body was pink, down to his eyelashes. 

But this wasn't what Author was talking about. He was talking about the captain's scared hands. His palm.

He could see it clearly. Bandages be damned. Author didn't need his eyes to see what was so plain and obvious. 

"Oh Wil..." he shook his head.

"Figured I'd end up bound to a contract." he responded, bitter words filling the air around them. "Couldn't have been someone on the damn crew. That'd be too easy."

Author could only nod, turning his head to the side. "Too easy for folks like us, but since when did you like going easy?" Far too easy. And... nice. Welcomed even. His cheeks were flushing at the thought. He could just imagine it. Being bonded with his good friend. Good, handsome friend. 

But in a world full of soulmates it felt silly to have crushes. Didn't mean it hurt any less.

Wilford laughed, Author had him there. He was so stubborn he made a mule look like a kiss ass. "Well, I'm sure I can find some way to turn the tides in our favor." But what did that mean? 

Did it mean gaining the prince's trust? Being with him? Loving him? Did he even want to? Did Wilford want to love? Sounded like it'd just tie him down.

But then what did he know?

All he's done is sleep around with random men and women, sometimes at the same time. He's used his charms to get what he wants, but never was what he wanted ever been romance. Gold, sex. Partnerships. Wilford could talk his way out of everything and into anyone's pants.

Maybe if he tried settling for one and one only he'd like it. Or maybe Dark would be open to something else. Who knew?

All he could do is wait and see how things turned out.

Hopefully it didn't end in blood.

But he had a feeling it would.

His first mate's voice pulled him out of his thoughts, "You know... I..." thank the stars for his abilities. If they did anything useful it was helping him to help his friend. And even if he had some feelings for Wilford, he'd put them aside if it meant he'd be happy. 

With him or without. Wilford's happiness meant the world.

"I know where he is."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

On the list of dumb, idiot choices Dark has made thus far. Attempting to escape via a rowboat-out on the ocean-was definitely in the top ten. Right under trying to use magic to shave. And only because he hadn't spilt any blood, yet.

Really though, what other choice did he have? No doubt if he had attempted to fight off all those pirates he would have failed. Badly. And been wounded. Maybe even killed. Or worse. It was either this or going with them willingly. Going with Wilford.

Yeah, like he'd go with the man who poisoned and tricked him. At least that fiasco with Anti made sense now. Wilford never wanted to kill him, he wanted to kidnap him. Still, as relieved he was to learn the man wasn't out for his blood, he was still a damn pirate. Who knew what else he or his crew wouldn't mind doing after they nabbed him.

Alright, so maybe all the books in the royal library were biased.

Regardless, Dark would rather chance drowning.

He was lucky there wasn't a nasty storm tonight.

Unluckily he left his coat on the docks when he ran. He could have used it for some shade. For when the sun was still high in the sky. Yet here he sat, leaning against the wooden seat with pink cheeks and sweat drenched clothes. His mother would have fainted if she saw him now. She never wanted to sse him getting any more of those "heinous spots" from being out in the sun so long. 

Dark liked his freckles. And it felt so good to not have to hide them anymore. No more disgusting powder. Or glamour stones.

It was freeing. 

What a shame it was that he was stuck on this dingey little boat, with a high chance of him starving or going mad. 

His magic could only take him so far, and he didn't want to use it all up. What if there was an emergency? He should save it up until then. 

\--  
It was nightfall of the second day he had been out at sea. Dark was hungry. Turns out trying to catch a fish with a hidden knife didn't fair so well. He was also thirsty. So much water and not an ounce to drink. He knew the salt would only dehydrate him even more so. 

He also manage to lose a paddle.

The fates loved toying with him, didn't they? Even now. 

Dark was jolted awake by the tiny boat rocking. Not the gentle to and fro of the waves. It was as though something had bumped against it.

At first he thought perhaps those pirates had found him. Then his mind went to sharks. 

And then, oh then, he heard laughter.

Not a ship nor land in sight, yet he heard it. Clear as day.

Maybe he was hallucinating. Maybe it was just the afterthoughts of a dream still lingering in his mind. 

But Dark heard it again. And with the moon shining high above the water, he could juuuust make out a vague shape breaking the surface. 

Oh, he did not like this.

He raised his cane, holding up a hand as red and blue lit up across his palm. It was just enough light for him to make out what he was seeing. 

"Jim!"

Jim?

"Jim! This boat Jim glows!" Gasped the merman, now grasping the side of Dark's tiny vessel. So excited that he nearly capsized him. The prince was astonished. He's never seen a merman before. A live one anyhow. He's seen a taxidermy one. It looked awful and grotesque compared to the real thing. This specimen, true to many of the books he's read, had the upper body of a man and the lower half of a fish.

Dark could make out blue scales, gills. The works. And claws. Claws that could easily filet him if they wanted. But they didn't.

This little group seemed more curious than anything. All chit chatty, poking at the prince from all sides and darting back under the water whenever he turned to look at them directly. 

"Playful little bunch, aren't you?" he commented.

"Yes! Jim, Jim and Jim, and Jim are very playful!" that was a lot of Jims. 

"Are... are you all named Jim?"

The mermen shared some curious looks, one eventually swimming nearer to speak directly to him, "No? Jim is Jim."

"... Right, my apologies." he never read anything about mermaid culture, or linguistics. Or anything of the sort. Didn't think he'd ever need to. 

It was quiet for a few moments. All the while the cogs were turning. Didn't he read that mermaids loved to collect shiny bits and bobbles? He was sure he did.

"Say," he started, "you wouldn't happen to know where the nearest bit of land in-" he pointed out on the horizon, in the opposite direction of his homeland. "-that direction is?"

"Yes-" one bleated, immediately silenced by a hiss and a wet slap of a tail against his side.

"No." the merman corrected, shooting the one who spoke a warning glare. This one seemed to be one of the eldest, sporting shinier, brighter blue scales. There was another who looked about the same age, with two thick gray bands of color covering all the way from his shoulders and fading down to his striking blue tail. He was going to call this one "striped Jim". 

Dark wasn't convinced in the slightest. These mermen were flashy, they couldn't survive nearly as long as they have out in the open ocean. They'd stick out like a sore thumb. They had to be living in shallower waters. 

"Oh?" he looked down, the buttons of his shirt becoming more and more interesting as time went on. "Are you certain?" he asked, thumbing the delicately carved silver material. He would hate to ruin such brilliant craftsmanship, but it was necessary. "Such a shame. And I had one, two-four buttons for the lot of you, to exchange too." Dark sighed, rolling one of the buttons between his fingers.

It didn't take long for him to convince the Jims to help him out after that.

It did, however, take them nearly all night to reach land. To reach their cove. The bright one didn't seem too happy about it, almost grumpy. But Dark was too eager to reach land to care. 

He was tired, hungry, and damn thirsty. By the time they reached the cove the sun was beginning to rise. Down four silver buttons, Dark tumbled out of his boat into knee deep water. Too shallow for the Jims to push him further. He trudged on, until he met with the dry land. 

It was there that he decided to lay. Well up on the bank, resting against an oddly shaped rock jutting out of the earth. Just below a shady tree.

Damn the ocean. Damn the sun's rays. Damn this terrible gnawing feeling in his gut.

Was this what starving felt like? Like his insides were trying to do him in? He hated it. But as much as he would love to satisfy his hunger, he needed to rest first. No use overexerting himself in this state.

Maybe once he woke up he'd discover it was all a dream.

And he'd wake back in his bed.

...

For some reason the idea made him ill.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

When Dark woke it was to something wet and sticky-and smelling faintly of fish-poking his lips. 

"Wake, burnt Jim." his blurry vision made out a man, who was far too close for his taste. "There's a storm coming. Jim must move for shelter before Jim gets caught in it."

The thing he was poking him with was a piece of fruit. It tasted sweet, like apple and... custard? He licked his lips. This island had star apples? He wished he could check for sure, but all his books were in the castle library. But he was nearly certain of it. And the purple apple looking fruit in the merman's hand confirmed it.

Another detail caught his eye. 

Dark sat up, accepting the fruit from him and taking a bite. Careful around the skin as it wasn't edible. All the while trying to make out the odd indentations on the merman's tail. It didn't look natural.

And once he noticed the small hooks he realized what it was.

"Jim."

"Yes!" 

Dark dropped the apple to his lap, reaching for the fishing line. Moving too fast for Jim's liking, making him hiss and flare his gills at the prince. Now they were both startled.

Dark flinched, "Sorry-but doesn't that hurt?" he gestured the the line, noticing now that the tide had come in, making it short work for the merman to drag himself up along the shore.

"You mean the tangles?" Jim questioned, leaning back. Now Dark had a better look at the lines. They were digging into the merman's scales, wrapped tightly around him, possibly from the struggle. "A little... Jim is lucky, these tangles didn't belong to any bad boat Jims. The Jim takers." Jim takers? He'd have to ask about that. Later.

"I could untangle you." he suggested, and the look that flashed across Jim's face was one if realization and astonishment. As though the thought had never crossed his mind. Like he had just accepted that he'd have to live on with this fishing line digging into him. "It might hurt, a little bit."

"Please! Help Jim!"

It took quite some time and a lot of maneuvering, and cursing, but eventually Dark had it. There were times where the young Jim cried. Usually whenever a scale was popped off or Dark's hand slipped up. 

"I think that just about does it. I'd stay away from any fishermen if I were you."

The merman leaned back, sitting on wet sand with the water barely lapping at his tail. A small amount of blood stained the beach around him. And Dark's hands. 

Jim squealed in delight, throwing his arms around Dark. "Thank you, nice boat Jim!"

"Actually-my name is Dark." he chuckled, patting Jim's back.

"Dark Jim!" close enough, he figured. "Now! It's Jim's turn to do the helping!" helping with what? Finding shelter? He hoped so. "Come come!" Come!" he released Dark, flopping back and rolling until he was in the water, beaming Dark's way as he said something to his brother.

Where had the older two gone? They had to be nearby. They didn't look the type to leave these younglings unsupervised. 

Dark shoved the wad of fishing line in his pocket. He could make use of it. Jim wanted to keep the hooks, he didn't know where he put them on his person. Hopefully somewhere safe. 

"Dark Jim! Come on! Follow the shore!"  
\--  
He ended up in a cave of sorts, one the young Jims could easily reach themselves. As it opened at the water. Far in the back there was a nice dry area. Untouched by the tide and already lit by a fire.

A man sat beside it, staring blankly into the flames. Dark recognized him. This was that striped merman. He didn't know who else would have such thick bands down the length of his body, all the way to his feet.

"Jim?" he spoke, sitting a few feet away opposite him, star apple in hand. 

He didn't answer, all he did was look up, stare at Dark, and then return to the flames. Whatever was eating him, it must have been terrible. It wasn't Dark's place to ask. 

Yet Jim began to speak anyway. "Jim knows Dark Jim has questions. 'Why is Jim upset?' Yes?" when the prince nodded, he continued, "Jim has lost. Much." the merman's hands instinctively went to his neck, where his gills-closed-lay. And now Dark could see it. A faint outline. Two hands. Wrapped around Jim's throat. 

In a world full of soulmates, people were bound to lose theirs. And when that happened their soulmarks changed. He's heard the physical pain in unbearable. As it fades it worsens. As faded as Jim's was, it must have been quite a while. But that didn't make the pain any less.

"I... am sorry for your loss, Jim." what else could he say?

"So is Jim...." he hummed, running his fingers along faint outlines of fingers. "Jim's soulmate was a kind fisherjim. Helped free Jim, from the Takers." that would explain why the mark was around his neck. He was assuming the Takers were those who made a living hunting and trapping merfolk. Some for sport. Others for food. Or jewelry.

It was disgusting.

"Jim used to wait everyday, at our spot. Such a kind soulmate. Jim couldn't ask for better." his smile faded, "Then... Jim never saw soulmate again. Now Jim knows why."

"I can't imagine why you're going through."

"But can't you?" Jim looked up, gesturing to his shoulder, where Dark's shirt had slipped down. Thanks to all those missing buttons. Now his mark was right on display. And he hurried to cover it. "Dark Jim's mark is black. So sad." he sighed.

"What-" he was confused, "What do you mean? Aren't they all supposed to be black?" Dark had never seen anything different. Not in his entire life. His mother, his father. Everyone he knew had black soulmarks. Everyone whose mark he could see at least. "Why would that be sad?"

"Black marks indicate imbalance. Soulmates are supposed to work together. To create balance. Sometimes, if one feels more for the other. Or has more control in the relationship. The mark turns black."

Dark never knew that. But now that he thought about it, his parents dynamics made a lot of sense now.

"Soulmates aren't supposed to mesh right away. Colors change. Ideally your mark will change to your soulmate's aura. And that takes work. And Jim sees many humans with pitch black marks. And that's why it's sad." Jim must have seen the look on Dark's face, because his somber tune changed quickly. "Bur Jim is sure Dark Jim and Dark Jim's soulmate will have a good bond! Soon!"

Dark looked to the fruit in his hand. "I... don't think my mark will ever change, Jim. But thank you."


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Jim may have been exaggerating when he said there was 'a storm coming'. Dark didn't think a light shower really qualified as a 'storm'. This was just a drizzle. Who knows, maybe it was going to get worse. It used to rain a lot worse back home. And that would be for days on end.

But boy, was it chilly. It was best for him to wait inside the cave. Couldn't chance catching a cold now, could he? That was the last thing he needed.

What he really needed was to rest. And with his belly full on fruit and fish-courtesy of the previously hooked Jim-he felt compelled to do just that. 

If there was one thing he missed from home, it was his blankets. And his plush pillows. So damn soft you'd swear they were stuffed with downy angel feathers. A stark contrast to the rocks he was laying on. But at least he was dry. Warm. Safe.

He wondered what Wilford was up to at that very moment. Not that he cared, of course not. He was simply... curious.

And only that.

Was he about to lie down as well? Was he still on his ship? Searching for him? 

Or had he given up the search?  
\--  
He had not.

Wilford was below deck, with the Author. Dark's island might have  been getting a little drizzle, but where they were they were getting the worst of it. No sense in sailing in these conditions. Might as well use the time to go over the plan. Again.

"And why can't we just go to the island, and talk with the prince?" Wilford didn't understand why he couldn't just g o. 

The Author clicked his tongue, "Because doing that doesn't end well." he told him, "'The Author holds the tea kettle firmly by the handle as he pours himself a drink. Not spilling a drop. And definitely not making a mess nor burning himself.'" lately he's had to narrate himself, just to avoid any mishaps due to not being able to see normally. Something he wasn't used to. At all.

Controlling other people? No problem. He did that all day everyday.  Controlling himself? He never thought he'd have to. It felt... strange. As though he were in limbo. Being controlled by loose strings and he was the puppet, as well as the puppeteer. No wonder Wilford lashed out at him the first day they met.

Especially considering his story. 

"If you were to go to the island and approach Dark, he would get defensive. He doesn't trust you. And seeing as he thinks his bond is one-sided... well, it presents an interesting, emotional case."

"Then I'll show him that it isn't!" Wilford was getting desperate. It wasn't a good look on him.

"He won't believe you. Even if you do show him. Not until the end. And then he'll have to believe you."

The captain gained a curious look, mustache twitching, "What happens at the end?" but the Author didn't answer. 

"I have a plan. It'll make the prince feel... safer, upon your arrival-'

"Wait, just mine?"

He continued, "We're not far from the island. And the storm is a good cover. You can... hop overboard and play shipwreck."

Wilford frowned, "That doesn't sound fun at all.... Are you sure this is the only way?"

"Acting as though your ship has been destroyed by the storm will make him believe you're crewless. He doesn't know of all of your abilities. So he'll believe you defenseless as well. No weapons. No ship. Harmless. It's either this or waiting weeks for him to get to mainland."

"Can't I just, show up on the island? Rough myself up? And then lay on the beach? I can literally do that. You're making this complicated."

"You're forgetting about his new friends. They'll know if you came in on the tide or not. And as it stands he trusts them more than he trusts you."

Wilford couldn't groan any louder. "And how, pray tell, are we going to make sure I don't, you know, actually die?" he scowled. 

Author tilted his head in Wilford's direction, lifting his cup to his lips but not saying a word.

He got it right away. "No."

"I know you don't like me narrating you. But do you really-"

"No. Author, no." Wilford shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fuck no. I'm willing to go along with this plan of yours, Author, but there's no way I'm doing it under someone else's control. Either I make it to the island in one piece, or I don't."

The Author sighed, "Aren't you stubborn." it wasn't a question. "Alright, fine. But what if you do die? Are you prepared for those consequences? Are you willing to let Dark suffer the Fade?"

"I'll be dead, so what do I care?" Author couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Besides, you haven't seen how he acts in private. He's-" the night on the balcony crossed his mind. For a second. Just a second. Speaking with Dark then had felt... natural. Nice. Sweet. But had that been the wine? It felt like as soon as the prince woke up he turned cold, distant.

Defensive.

When Dark asked to see his hands Wilford wanted to show him. Why didn't he show him? When he saw the tears in his eyes Wilford wanted to throw the charade away and pull him in close. Why did he let him leave?

Maybe they had more in common than he thought.

"He's-" Wilford waved his hands around. Like that would help. "Let's just get this over with. Before the storm stops."

"'The Author bolts up and sets his tea down on the table so he could follow his friend-'"

"Awwwww!"

"Shut up-'out of the room, through the lower deck, and up the stairs. He is now above deck. The rain is harsh. Makes his clothes stick to his skin in all of three seconds. It's miserable. The ship is being knocked by the waves. But the Author manages to keep steady footing as he watches Wilford.'"

"Ha, 'watches'." Wilford teased, shucking off his leather coat. It would only weigh him down. Then went his holster, which he handed to the Author. "I'll miss you, old friend."

"I'd be touched if I knew you weren't talking to the gun."

"Shhhhhh." He put a finger to his lips, swinging one leg over the railing. Then the other.

"Wait, Wil!"

But he had already taken the plunge. Into the deep blue.

"You idiot!" Author screeched. "We have a dinghy!" he hit his head on the railing, why did Wilford have to make things ten times harder on himself?

But Wilford has survived worse than this.

He can make it.

Hopefully.  
\--  
This was a terrible mistake. 

What a horrible plan.

Wilford couldn't count how many times he's been knocked around by the waves. Tossed about like he was some ragdoll. He might have lost a shoe. Treading water. Fighting the waves. Swimming like his life depended on it. Because it did. 

He was going to haunt Author if he didn't make it out alive.

How long had he been out on the water? Too long. He was tired. But there was land. He could see it.

Could he make it? Now that was the question. 

There was so much noise he could hardly make anything out. Crashing waves. Roaring thunder. Pouring rain. And then a voice. Several of them.

"Jim! Jim get back here!"

Who was Jim? Why is Jim?

Wilford sputtered, squinting his eyes. The salt water stung. He could barely see. He fought to get another lungful of air. The waves forced him down.

And that would have been the last time. 

Something grabbed him just then, hands latched onto his arm, pulling him up, breaking the surface with a gasp.

He could see scales. Four faces surrounding him. The one belonging to who grabbed him was staring, quite intensely, at his palm. 

"Souldbond." he could make that out. But how could he see through his magic? No one was able to. Not even other magic users, only-

"Goddamn Manoriac mermaids." he muttered. This was going to make things more difficult. Would they still help him? Knowing what he was?

"Jim, let him go." Was now anytime for an argument? Right in the middle of this storm? "Let. Him. Go." Ah, yes. He recalled how these merfolk spoke. Always referring to others as the name of their pod's ancestor. To not do so was an act of disrespect among them. He didn't blame them.

"No!" oh thank the gods. "Jim will not be responsible for another soul losing their mate!" the merman hissed, gills flaring. 

"Jim would defend a made monster." this was going to be a lot of back and forth, wasn't it?

The merman showed them his marked palm, shouting, "This one has a soulmate! Jim will not have another go through the same pains Jim has!" now he growled, arms wrapping around Wilford to secure him. "Bite the coral of flame then, you spineless jellies. Jim will carry this pink Jim alone, if none of you are willing."

Silence among the rest of them, then grumbled cursing as they complied.

It was just his luck these mermen were from his homeland. Hopefully that didn't make this too difficult. More than it already was anyhow.

It shouldn't. There wasn't a lot of information on Manoriac, and for good reason.

He just hoped none of these mermen have a change of heart and decide to make a meal out of him.   
\--  
"Dark Jim!"

This was not how he wanted to wake up. Not to frantic yelling and grunting. He rolled over, stumbling to get up and shaking the last wisp of sleep off of him. "Yes?!"

He saw them now, just in the cave, lugging a man in with them. 

"Is he alright?" Dark clamored over, reaching down to help them lift him over the stone lip above the water.

"Jim thinks this one fell overboard!" one of them explained, striped Jim. Dark dragged the man along, grunting. But he had to make sure he was in the dry area. He couldn't just leave this pink-

"You!" Dark's eyes widened, dropping Wilford flat on his back.

"Me!" Wilford groaned, holding his head. "What-how the hell did you end up here?"

"Same way you did." He gestured to the gaggle of mermen. Striped Jim was now climbing over the rocks, tail not yet dry enough to form his legs. The other elder Jim looked sour about the whole thing. Nothing new.

"Thank the gods for nice mermen." Wilford dragged a hand over his eyes, coughing up salt water. 

"Yes. Thank the gods." Dark moved away, over to his things. His shoes and cane. The latter of which was now in his hands, grip tight. "If only I believed in them." he turned aiming the end of his cane at Wilford's throat. "Do you think me stupid?" he spat. "The fates can only allow so many coincidences, Wilford. If that even is your real name."

Wilford stiffened, hands automatically flying up, palms forward. He had no weapons to defend himself with, that much Dark could tell. "The fates are a friend of mine." technically true. If one considered the Author a fate. 

"How convenient." Dark snarled, flicking he wrist. A sharp blade extended from the end of the cane, the tip pressing into tanned skin. 

Wilford stiffened. 

"No!" Jim screeched, catching Dark off guard. "Dark Jim, please!"

He narrowed his eyes, looking to the merman, who now dragged his way closer on his hands. A desperate plead. Dark scowled, taking his cane away. "Give me a reason." Any reason.

"H-he's soulbonded!" he grabbed Wilford's hand, shaking it at Dark. But Dark saw nothing.

"Jim, there's no mark there." he sighed. Did Jim know this was who Dark's mark was from? Was he trying to make him feel better? It wasn't working.

"What-" Jim whipped his head to Wilford, "Show him! He cannot see! Show him!"

Wilford wouldn't have. Had he not been so weak, tired. Had he not seen Dark's face. The look in his eyes. It twisted his stomach in guilt. "Fuck it."

He dropped the magic, pink rune carved skin shining through. And the black mark on his hand plain to see. 

The last thing he heard before he passed out were the words, "You son of a bitch." which, to be fair, wasn't far off.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Dark was experiencing some very mixed feelings here. Relieved and absolutely, maddeningly livid. He wanted Wilford to hurry and wake up so he could curse at him. Which was awful considering he'd just been ravaged by the seas. Supposedly, anyhow. Dark didn't believe him. 

He believed the Jims though. They had no reason to lie to him. Not like Wilford.

Part of him wanted to believe the mark was real. That his own wasn't one sided. But it was all a little too convenient. He had a good hunch this was all a part of some plan to catch him off guard. So they could snatch him up. And sell him off to whoever their employer was.

But if so, why would Wilford have been treading water for as long as the Jims claimed he was? That was stupid. If it was a plan at all. And they said there were no ships in sight. 

Was Wilford so stupid he'd risk his own life for a plan?

What Dark didn't get was why-if the mark was true-he wouldn't use it to his advantage. If Dark was trying to kidnap someone and they gained a soulmark, he would use it to lure them off. 

Maybe Wilford was more decent then he thought. Hah.

"Does Dark Jim know pink Jim?" Stripes asked him, sitting criss cross beside the unconscious man, well away from where Dark sat.

"Unfortunately." he spat, "Supposedly, he's my soulmate."

A loud, shocked gasp echoed off the cave walls. Stripes now looked at him with a huge giddy smile. "That's wonderful! Jim is happy us Jims could reunite you-" and then he faltered, blinking at thin air. "But... Dark Jim wanted to hurt pink Jim-why?"

Dark sighed, laying flat on the cave floor. "It's a long story."

"Us Jims love stories."

He stared up, eyes following a crack in the rocks above. What could it hurt to tell them. So he did. Of course he left out a few details, like how he wanted to bone Wilford from the start. And the bit where he corrupted a pirate's magic. That was too much. He didn't want to give them reason to fear him.

"Dark Jim is a prince...." one of the younger Jims asked, halfway out of the water. When Dark looked over he found it was his little tangled friend. Let's call him Hook. "Jim's never been this close to royalty before!"

"Not true. There was that skeleton king in the sunken ship." ah, Salty Jim. There you are. 

"Enough about me. I don't think I've seen either of you two out of the water. Why's that?" Dark glanced to their legged elders. 

"Only merfolk of a certain age can change their tail into a pair of legs. Have a ways to go until these Jims gain theirs."

Interesting. He never knew that. He just assumed they all could. Right from the start. This was good to know. 

"Jim can't wait to grow Jim's own! Jim wants to walk on land! And visit a human town! And wear pants!"

"Pants are restricting, why would Jim wear pants? Jim doesn't." yes Salty, we can see that. It's plenty obvious. Dark has seen so much. So. Much.

While the brothers all talked among one another, Dark looked to Wilford.

So many runes, and he only recognized a few. They weren't from any book of magic he's read. No studies he's endured. He's only seen one other person who had runes carved into their flesh. When he was twelve. And witnessed their execution because his father thought it would be educational. He didn't remember why they were being executed. 

He recognized the runes for containment, protection. These were repeated, many, many times over. And as much as Dark would love to see what was going on under that shirt, he didn't want to touch him. Period. 

Look at that mustache. Ridiculous. And yet, he would look absolutely wrong without it. If he looked closely, he could see a sliver of pointed teeth. Pointy teeth, pointy ears? Sharp claws? Good heavens, what in the world was he supposed to be?

He's never seen anyone so pink. All over. It was... kind of charming. Was he weird for looking someone over while they were asleep? He thought so. 

Let's shake those thoughts out. Dark needed to rest. He moved, further into the cave. Away from the fire. And Wilford. No way in hell was he going to fall asleep with him a foot away.

However, he couldn't help but to notice that the further he went, the lonelier he felt.

Disgusting.  
\--  
Wilford woke early. It was a habit by now. 

The mermen were nowhere to be seen, probably out getting themselves something to eat. Wilford should go do that as well. He was starving. But where was D-

Oh, there he was. Still asleep. One arm keeping his head propped up and another hand clutching that cane of his. Didn't he look comfortable. That was sarcasm. 

But he did look... peaceful. Beautiful. Handsome. Wilford never did get to have a good look at him since the festival. Now he understood the shocked and infuriated look on the Queen's face. Split down the middle, one side freckles galore. The other porcelain beauty mark heaven-

Wilford blushed heavily. Oh come on. Dark wasn't that attractive.

...

That was a damn lie.

He looked sunburnt. And dirty. Two toned hair a mess but somehow it was alluring-alright, that's enough.

He got up, stomach growling. 

He still needed to earn Dark's trust here. A meal could smooth things over. For now...

Wilford looked to his satchel, still secure on his person. Fastened tightly. Still kind of damp. But dry enough. He opened it, removing the carefully folded coat. Black as night, embellished with silver. As beautiful as the man who-enough. Anyways, he wasn't going to just leave it behind. It was far too pretty. 

And maybe he had planned on keeping it as a momento, in case they couldn't find the prince.

He padded over, making sure to be quiet. Wilford draped the coat over Dark's sleeping form, taking a single moment to take the prince in. He really was handsome, it was no wonder he had a bounty put on him for his hand in marriage.

Usually when bounties were put on people, it was because they were, you know, bad. Either way, it was an odd request. But a ton of gold.

Not that he still planned on turning Dark over. He actually didn't know what his plan was. He guessed it would depend on the next few days.

And with that, Wilford fled, off to hunt for something to eat.

((Hi I have a stomach virus :) and our dog first went missing-after an attempted break in-and was found hella hurt, so I've been taking care of her. Yis, it's been very stressful, so you guys get hella updates! Because writing helps me chill! Ahhhh!! )


	17. Chapter Seventeen

The Author had the ship docked. Knowing how curious merfolk could be, it would have only be a matter a time before they spotted them. Had they stayed near the island Dark-and now Wilford-were stranded on. So he took this as a good opportunity to restock on supplies. And here they were. At the nearest marketplace. 

This one just happened to be a pirate's sanctuary. 

Thieves, assassins. They were all welcome here. With open arms.

Unsuspecting travelers coming across this particular marketplace would be lucky if they didn't end up being robbed of all their possessions. And a few organs.

"Come along, Doctor." Author grunted. He had to bring their new healer along, knowing the man would attempt to run off. And be shot for doing so. Couldn't have that now, could they?

"Markus." 

"What?"

"M-my name!" the doctor sputtered, blushing brightly. "That's my name, Markus." he was trying to build some amount of trust between them. Author didn't need his abilities to know that. "What's yours?" 

He regarded him warily, sidestepping a shady man, quiet narrations thwarting the pickpocket's attempts. To top it off he made him trip over his own miraculously untied laces. No one could pull one over with him. Anyone who tried would be punished. "Author."

"Your name is... Author?"

"No. But it's what you'll be referring to me as, Doctor."

Iplier 'oh'ed. "Well-Author, what are you looking for? This is a... peculiar part of the market."

It was. 

Strange bits and bobbles lining tables draped in fine silk and ratty cloths alike. Little stalls with questionable potions on display. An odd man the doctor had seen among their crew looked to be making haste away from a foul smelling butcher shop. With a parcel in his hands.

"If Bim offers you any meat to eat, don't." Author mumbled to him. He don't know why he did. Just that he felt the need to.

"Don't what?" it'd be rude to refuse, wouldn't it?

"Just don't." and that was that, on... that. "And to answer your question, it's not a 'what'. It's a 'who'." Author was looking for a man that he knew should have something to fix his... ailment. A man that went by the name of-

"Henrik!" Dr. Iplier blurted out.

Author hadn't seen that coming. 

"Markus?" the two doctors both seemed perplexed yet excited to see each other. "It's been ages!" and they met halfway with a friendly hug. One that was borderline intimate. And left a foul taste in the Author's mouth. "What are you doing here-" Henrik's joyful smile turned sour, and he flicked Markus on the nose. "This is pirate territory! Are you trying to get robbed?"

"Me? What about you!" Dr. Iplier pointed to Henrik's simple shop, and hos colleague's face flushed.

"It... has been very slow, not many getting sick." Author almost rolled his eyes. "I had to make ends meet somehow."

"So you took up selling illegal remedies-Henrik! Are these flame snail shells? They're endangered!"

"My friend, relax! I don't kill the snails. Nature does. Dumb things get caught in cracks, die. I collect the shells. You crush them up in obsidian mortar and pestle, they make fine cold remedy."

Markus narrowed his eyes, "Uh huh... it's a little hard to understand what you're saying." he gestured to his mouth, where the doctor wore a cloth mask. And now they were being rushed into the shop by a very red faced Henrik.

Author just wanted to shop, dammit. He didn't want to experience this reunion. "'The Author will peruse the rest of the doctor's wares, while the two catch up. He will not break anything. Hopefully'." and he went off, making a beeline to where he felt-knew-his solution was.

"... You make odd friends." Henrik commented, reaching behind his head to untie the mask. "Anyways... it takes some explaining." 

The Author heard it all as it went down. He almost felt bad. Henrik had recurring pseudo soulmarking. When someone wants a soulmate badly enough, and someone starts showing interest in them. Or gives them any positive or negative attention that they interpret as interest. Their body, and mind, will react. They will have all the signs of a soulbond, mark and all. But they won't be bound. 

Usually it comes and goes. And is more common in young adults and teens. 

But Henrik was a grown man, and though he claimed he had no care for a soulmate, he subconsciously did. And the marks on his mouth and cheeks taunted him. Were they real? Were they not?

"Well why don't you see if whoever you were kissing so passionately has a mark as well?" Markus asked him, chuckling. Despite the pain he felt. A pain Author knew too well.

"It was a peck! And he kissed me!" Henrik was already flustered, he didn't need his friend teasing him. "And besides, I can't find him. Anywhere. I'm worried he... might have done something."

And then he told Markus, and was overheard by the Author. Who definitely wasn't snooping. 

Okay, maybe he was invested in the story.

He told Markus of his newest patient. Who had come to him wanting a mark removal. Turns out the poor boy's bond was one sided, and he couldn't stand it when the girl found her soulmate. Especially since they had children. He told him that he couldn't help, but he knew someone who could.

Some traveling magician. Henrik told him that he often visited Henrik's shop to stock on some things.

Well, the man couldn't just stand outside forever until the magician showed. So Henrik made him his assistant. And during those long, long months they grew... close.

But not too close. Henrik wouldn't let them touch. Even though he had the mark. Henrik didn't want to chance it.

And then the magician came, and his assistant went with him.

Only to return a month later, unmarked and chipper. A stark comparison to the young man he knew. But he was happy to see him.

And then he grabbed his cheeks and-

Well, the mark was clear.

"I don't know, Markus. It's been days. And I haven't seen him. He was... not in the best spirits during all of that time. And many occasion I saw him clutching a bottle. And... I only caught a glimpse, but I fear he may... not much be all that involved with the land of the living. You see?"

"Henrik... that's so terrible. I'm sorry."

"I worry for him. Mark or not. He's my friend."

Markus squeezed Henrik's shoulder. "He'll turn up, I'm sure of it." and he smiled. And it was so kind and warm, genuine. The Author almost-

The Author almost nothing.

He returned from the back, holding a heavy jar covered in a thick cloth. "I've found what I was looking for." he said, speaking up. "Am I interrupting?"

"He says, as though he hadn't been eavesdropping." Markus mused, a twinkle in his eyes. Author huffed. "You were staring our way."

Dammit.

"How much?" he said, dropping the cloth away. The glass jar was warm. So warm. He could feel something shifting in the vessel, trying to get comfortable. He knew what was inside. A type of... parasitic entity. He knew it would allow him to see. He didn't know how. But that didn't matter. 

The Author was so consumed with regaining his sight, that he didn't care for the consequences. Losing his humanity. Who cared for humanity? The Author did not. Born, bred, raised to act as an oracle to a greedy king.

Changed. Altered. Made a storyteller who could speak armies into submission. Runes carved into his back still burning with the memories.

He was no human. 

"That depends." the doctor spoke, regarding The Author. "On if they like their new host."

"Cryptic, aren't you?"

"I've been told!... A hundred gold. Fifty if you let me watch the process."


	18. Chapter 18

Dark had awoken. Finally. No sense in trying to figure out what time it was either. It wasn't as though he were late for anything. 

And that... actually felt nice. No meetings, no tutoring. No obligations made without his knowing. Dark could take as much time as he wanted.

The sudden appearance of his jacket was a surprise. He had a hunch just who it came from too. "Wilford." He grunted bitterly, now sitting up. He almost wanted to chuck it in the remnants of last night's fire. That was a lie. The prince was actually relieved to have it back. And perhaps touched. Wilford had chosen to keep it on his person, and for some odd reason that warmed his heart.

Even if he was certain the pirate had planned on selling it. 

He took a moment to relax. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching out his legs. 

One of the Jims, seeing he was awake, greeted him. "Did dark Jim sleep well?"

All he did was grunt in reply. That would be a 'no'. After sleeping on fine silk and the like his entire life, this rocky hard surface was down right torture. His body felt sore. Stiff. When he reached his arms high above his head he could hear his back popping. 

It was much too hot to wear many layers, but shoes were a must. No way was he going to chance getting his feet all cut up and risking an infection. He made sure to shake them out first. Didn't want to get bit by any critters who had decided to take up residence.

Stepping out of the shelter he was met with the sun blaring down on him. And the sight of a certain pink fool standing in shallow water. With what appeared to be a spear. He must have been fishing then. Good. That would keep him out of his hair.

Although he didn't know how he felt about him being armed.

He walked out, out right ignoring the pirate's greeting. He had things to do. An island to explore. Perhaps he could find something useful. Like a source of fresh drinking water. Or something to beat Wilford with if he got too close. 

Dark couldn't believe his eyes when he first saw the mark. And he still didn't. How did he know Wilford wasn't faking it? That he wasn't using some shapeshifting ability? After beating himself up over believing he had the rotten luck of gaining a one sided bond, it all seemed too good to be true for his tastes. 

Now here he was? On the same island as Dark? This read like a cheesy romance novel. What next? Wilford was going to turn out to actually be a prince? Oh of all the clichés. 

He grunted, stepping over a decaying log in his descent into the jungle. He could hear running water. A river, perhaps? 

\--

The crew took up lodging in a seedy hotel. It was nice to get to sleep in actual beds. Even if they were only somewhat clean. 

The Author sat in a tub of warm water, the doctor only a few feet away. He didn't care for being indecent. Nor was he bothered that Markus could see him. Naked as the day he was born. The man was a doctor. If this made him uncomfortable then he had no business in the field.

The jar was held firm in the Author's grasp. Hand on the lid. 

In the end he paid the full price. Having another party to witness what was to unfold didn't sit well with him. But for whatever reason he was more than alright with having Markus present. He told himself it was souly because he didn't trust him not to run off. 

And if something were to wrong it would help to have a hand.

"I don't like this." Markus admitted, eyes glued to the jar. Author was already opening it. The creature inside writhed. Markus could vomit.

"You don't have to." Came the expected reply. "My body. My sight. My say-so."

"It's a parasite! Come on, Author!" Markus felt like he needed to look away, but he couldn't. What morbid curiosity. "You don't need to see to live-plenty get along just fine without sight! You can too!"

"I don't want to." He growled, giving him the distinct impression that this man was a stubborn one. And he'd be right. "I'm becoming the host to this 'parasite' and you can't stop me."

Markus frowned. Seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "I ..." He sighed, "I can't keep my patients from doing anything stupid-anything I... don't agree with. I'll be here to patch you up regardless."

Why did knowing that make him feel at ease?

The Author nodded, looking down towards the jar in his hands. He knew the moment he opened it that the creature would spring into action. But he couldn't see past that.

And he'd soon find out why.  
\--

A waterfall. 

A small, breathtaking sight. Sitting between smooth miss covered stone with a little shelf settled beneath it. Perfect for someone to stand under, or two someones. But he wasn't going to think about that. Even if that pink bastard hadn't ceased plaguing his mind. 

Bastard.

Bastard man.

Dark emerged from the brush. Just now did he realize how much sand he had on him. In his hair. His pants. Disgusting. Terribly gritty. A good long stay under the waterfall was in order. Too bad he didn't have any soap. 

Hopefully he didn't have to stay on the island for long. He didn't know how much he could take of this.

His clothes were discarded and shook out vigorously, left to hang on a branch with his shoes. He felt burnt. And the moment the water touched him he let out a hiss. Yep, definitely sunburnt. Just what he needed. 

The need for cleanliness outweighed the sting.

Dark scrubbed himself thoroughly, fingers pressing hard against his scalp to rid himself of every grain of sand and every bit of grime. What he would give for some lavender scented soap right now. 

Did he get some more freckles? It looked like it. No doubt all this sun would grant him many, many more.

He checked himself over. Careful hands running over his skin. Searching for cuts, scrapes. Bruises. So far nothing. Only that cursed Soul Mark. Maybe if he scratched hard enough it'd go away-

"You'll hurt yourself."

Dark jumped, hands flying to cover up. There was that dreaded pirate again. The roar of the waterfall had masked his steps. "Wilford!" He bleated, "What are you doing?!"

"... Isn't it obvious?" He had the audacity to blink and look confused. There he was, the second time Dark has scene him naked. And both times he hadn't been expecting it. "Didn't you hear me?"

"No, no I did not." He hissed at him, facing away from the pirate. His face couldn't be any redder even with his sunburn. 

"Shy?" Wilford chuckled, and from the corner of his eye Dark could see him carding his fingers through pink hair. He could see a lot, actually. A lot. Way to be modest, Wilford. "You shouldn't be. You're a beautiful man, your majesty." If Wilford thought he could buddy up to him with compliments, he was dead wrong. 

"Be quiet." The flattery wasn't helping his case. "Weren't you fishing?"

"I was, that striped fellow said he'd finish up-and I'm serious!" He almost sounded offended. "You know it's an interesting mix for a Chimera, male and female-"

Dark was well aware of that, but that didn't mean the topic didn't make him uncomfortable. "Shhhhh!"

"-looks like it'd be a fun time." He didn't have to see the smirk to know it was plastered on his face.

"Would you be quiet? And must you be this close?" Dark snapped. It wasn't as though it was intentional. There wasn't much room under the waterfall.

"I could be closer if that's what you mean." Was that all Wilford thought about? Disgusting. Even if it was tempting-shut up, shut up! 

Dark turned around, jabbing a finger in Wilford's stomach. "Absolutely not." All that got was a giggle. "Let's just get clean, you bafoon. I don't wish to spend more time this close than I have to."

Wilford put a hand to his chest. "You wound me."

"Good. Consider it revenge." Dark spat at him. "For trying to kidnap me."

"To be fair, I failed that."

"Let's try again then. How about, for frightening me. Tricking me. Putting me through the worst torture of all." Wilford opened his mouth but Dark wasn't finished. "Making me believe my bond was one sided, making me second guess your every intention-and now? Now you just show up on the same island, bearing a Soul Mark? That you apparently had the entire time? I don't know if I should kill you and go through the Fade, or worse. Believe you."

He shook out his hair, "I'm finished. Make yourself useful and boil some water for us to drink." And he stepped out, grabbing his clothes off the branch along the way. Leaving Wilford to rethink his strategy.

Looks like he couldn't charm his way in Dark's good graces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((henlo, my computer is having some difficulties ;n; If you'd like to donate so I can get a new one quicker my ko-fi and PayPal are GoodieGhosty. Work has really cut my hours, not even getting 30 a week. Feels bad man. Thank you all so much for being patient ❤️♥️♥️❤️ ))


	19. Chapter 19

Markus couldn't scrub the image from his mind. The sight of that... thing attacking Author. Going straight for his eyes. It was sickening. There had been so much blood. It splattered over every surface. Such a mess. Maybe the tub had been a good idea after all. Easier to clean.

He assumed anyhow. Author had locked him out of the bathroom as soon as he came to. Markus was worried. The man looked awful. But then, when you had a cluster of wriggling masses protruding from your bloody eye sockets you were bound to look ill.

"Author?" He wrapped his knuckles on the door, ear pressed against the wood. "Please-let me in! There must be something I can do to help you." There had to be. He couldn't stand the thought of having to stand idly by while someone was in pain.

Even if this someone was a pirate, whose crew kidnapped him. 

The thought of fleeing crossed his mind. The Author wouldn't be able to stop him, not in his position. He could run to the local law enforcement and get himself a ship back home-

But he couldn't leave the man like this. Knowing what was going on. He felt all torn up about it. 

"Author?..." Markus sighed, pulling away from the door. 

"I'm assuming he went on with it?"

The doctor froze up, head whipping to the side. Only to find Henrik. And he relaxed. "Hen? What are you doing here?"

His old friend scowled at the nickname, "Didn't I tell you not to call me that?" he huffed about it, hefting up his bag of tools. "I followed, simple as that. You didn't think I'd miss the opportunity to witness such a thing, did you?"

Of course not. Henrik had always been the curious type.

"Tell me, how'd it go?"

Just the question alone was enough to make Markus turn a ghastly hue. "Believe me, you don't want to know."

"That bad?... How is he?" Henrik eyed the door, wondering what lie beyond it. As did Markus.

"I... I don't know. He shut me out and won't let me come in." He couldn't believe just how worried he was. To the point he felt ill. 

Henrik nodded, rubbing his chin. "You... do you know him very well? Has he ever shut you out before? How did you get him to open up then?"

He felt like he was just hit with an entire brick wall. Had Henrik thought he and the Author were pals? Granted, Markus wasn't doing much to advertise that he was a prisoner of some band of pirates.

And perhaps for good reason. There was no need to get Henrik mixed up in this mess. The less he knew, the better.

"Henrik, I just met this man a few days ago." Markus explained, "I don't even know his name."

"Oh? Ah, you seemed to be close. I was under the assumption you two were... well..." His cheeks turned pink, and it only took a second of thought for Markus' to do the same.

"Bonded?" He finished, "Oh-no, no. No. I don't-"

Henrik chuckled, "I saw the markings, and then saw he was with you, so I just drew a conclusion." He nudged his arm, "One day, friend. You'll find your bond."

Markus giggled with him, the words only clicking once the laughter died down. "... what marks?"

"Mein Gott, you must be the blind one here." He teased, "The ones on the sides of his head. The bandages couldn't cover them all, hard to spot with how dark his hair is too-" Markus could hear Henrik talking, but he couldn't register what was being said.

Author had a mark? But he couldn't remember ever seeing one during his treatment. Granted yeah, he was a little preoccupied trying to clean all that essence to take a good look at him at the time. Perhaps it was a recent development? He and that Captain fellow seemed pretty close-but you'd think they would have touched each other before.

Why was he getting so caught up in this one detail? As though he were invested in the man. As if he would ever... consider....

"Markus?"

His palms were feeling itchy. The state of his hands now brought to his attention. They were shaking, likely from nerves. Gloves stained with essence and now blood. He refused to believe the idea that now crept along the outskirts of his mind. That he... and the Author-

That he and that... that pirate, who belonged to the crew who stole him away from the palace. Who threatened him. The pirate that he aided, out of fear of being killed off should he refuse-

He refused to believe that they could possibly be each other's soulmates. 

The Fates weren't so cruel.

There was only one way to find out, however. He just didn't know what he'd do if what he saw beneath his gloves weren't the same rough palms he had grown accustomed to.

Henrik stood idly by, concern showing clear as day in his eyes. "My friend... do you need to take a seat?" He laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. Markus was one of the few he would actively go out of his way to touch. He had already gained plenty a pseudomark from even the slightest contact with the man, so he had nothing to worry about with Markus. He knew they weren't soulmates.

Those marks always came and went. And Markus knew that. Didn't mean it hurt any less. Even though he knew, he still had this silly fantasy where one day one of the marks would stick, and he and Henrik would open a clinic together. And adopt a cat and name it something ridiculous. And maybe hold a secret wedding ceremony-

"I'm actually staying in this hotel as well-we can chat there while your friend... recovers. If you'd like."

He felt stupid. And sick. And-and angry! Why would the Fates string him along? Why have Henrik be in this exact place at this exact moment? When he was so vulnerable and he couldn't utter a single word about it? Least he get his friend caught up in it as well.

He whipped off both of his gloves, glowering with stinging eyes once the state of his palms was revealed to him. The entirety of both his palms may as well been dipped in tar. 

Marked. Black as coal.

And... moving?

"Markus?" Henrik could feel the air change around them. Tension rising. So thick you could cut it with a knife. It seemed like his words were falling on deaf ears.

The other doctor looked up, glaring at the wood door in front of them. He straightened up, shoulders back, chest puffed. Fist raised to pound on the door, to demand to be let in-

But before contact could be made, the door creaked open. And there stood The Author.

"You..." The wind was stolen right out of Markus' sails, he had planned on marching in there and demanding-well, he didn't know what. He hadn't been expecting The Author to just... be right there. All of a sudden.

"We need to talk with you." Was all the pirate said to him, before pulling the doctor into the hotel room and leaving Henrik out in the hall.


	20. Chapter 20

Dark could have declined the fish Wilford had cooked for them. He could have. But his ravenous stomach wouldn't have it. He was starving, and one could only eat so much fruit. So he ate the fish bitterly, not even bothering with a simple thank you when Wilford offered it.

Now he sat on the beach, staring out at the ocean, contemplating his next move. If he kept going north he'd have to hit land eventually, right? Maybe he could keep doing that until he reached a populated city. 

But Wilford.

Wilford would likely try to come with. Or foil his plans. 

And he would like to get a good supply of food going first before even trying that. 

He sighed, leaning back against the large, odd rock that jutted out of the sand. "I wish I could just get off this rotten island." 

...

Was the beach moving? 

The rock he was resting against shifted, the prince scrambling away from it immediately. He thought maybe he accidentally laid on a snake or something-whatever it was he didn't like it.

"I can do that." Came a voice, smooth, yet gravelly. Intelligent. Dark looked back and saw not a rock, but a man. Covered in moss and vines, and barnacles. An intricate 'G' was carved into his chest. Which was made on smooth stone. 

Dark couldn't believe his eyes. Or his ears. Was he hallucinating? Or did he just happen upon a golem? "I... I thought all the Golems were destroyed long ago!" He babbled.

There had been a battle a few decades ago, some lunatic had created an army of golems and launched an attack. Since then all Golems were seen as weapons and nothing more, and they were outlawed. Destroyed. Anyone caught in possession of one was to be imprisoned. 

"As you can see, we are perfectly intact-" the Golem looked to his side, as if looking for something, only to find it was no longer there. He did a double take, wrenching his legs from the sand and spinning around. Still searching for whatever it was that he was missing. Until the Golem's eyes, a piercing blue, met Dark's. "Destroyed, you say?"

But he said it as though it were an accusation.

"What have you done to him?" 

Dark threw his hands up, "I just got here! I haven't been on this island long-certainly haven't seen whoever it is you're referring to!" Who was this 'him'? Was it another Golem? This one looked weathered, and perhaps they hadn't learned of the new laws put in place. Or of the battle.

"I don't believe you." This Golem-it had a mind of its own? Dark was under the impression that Golems were... well, task monkies. Existing to only fulfill one task after the other. "Tell me where he is, now." And there was a waver to his voice, emotion.

Whoever crafted this Golem had amazing skill.

Unfortunately their masterpiece looked to be seconds from clobbering Dark.

"I'm telling the truth! I don't know who you're talking about-" the hand around his throat was shockingly warm. From the sun that beat down on them. Dark clawed at stone, getting nowhere. As effective as trying to carve marble with a flimsy spoon. "Stop-"

"Put him down."

Wilford had shown up out of nowhere, growling the threat out between clenched teeth. "Now." Dark wasn't sure how effective that would be, seeing how the Golem's grip now tightened. 

"Tell me what you've done to him!" It was hard to concentrate on anything when Dark could barely breathe. Less of all magic. All he could do was struggle and hope for the best. "Tell me, now!" were those tears in the Golem's eyes? Or was that only his imagination?

When did Wilford get behind him? The pink man had one arm around Dark's waist, his other extended in front of them, palm crackling with energy presses against the Golem's chest. "Let him go, or I'll make a pretty lil crater straight through your core. And you'll never see him again."

There was reluctance, but soon Dark was released. Had it not been for the arm around him he would have collapsed, but for now he only sagged against Wilford, coughing with a hand to his throat.

"Where is he?" The Golem pressed once more.

Dark, eyes watery thanks to the agonizing lack of oxygen, looked up. "We don't even know who you're talking about!" he croaked out.

"Bing!" As though the name alone was detail enough. "He's a Golem, like I am? We were both here, on this beach! And now he's gone! And you say Golems were destroyed!" He sounded distraught, desperate. "So where is he!?"

Wilford's arm tightened around Dark, pink eyes glowering at the display. "We don't. Know."

Dark rubbed his throat. If he wasn't still recovering he would have gut punched Wilford for holding him for so long. Or so close for that matter. It almost felt nice. Secure. Almost.

"Jim knows!" 

They each turned their heads towards the water, where Hook Jim was beaming at them proudly. "Jim saw Jim on the other side of the island! Jim thinks Jim was counting something."

And that was how they ended up making the trek around the island, searching for this Bing character. Dark almost didn't think he actually existed, but lo and behold-

"Bing!" The Golem belted out, sprinting down the beach towards the other teal colored Golem.

"Google! You're awake-" there was a solid clack as the two embraced, and Dark almost flinched, but they didn't seem bothered. "Haha, miss me that much?"

"You idiot, when I told you to count all the grains of sand on the beach I didn't mean it literally." Dark glanced to Wilford, wondering if they should both leave, now that Bing had been found. "Your colors..."

"Oh-right? Think it was all the exposure to the elements. Looks cool though, doesn't it?" Bing was really babbling on, and Google looked both relieved and completely done. 

"You talk too much." He sighed, and-completely disregarding their audience-he pulled Bing in for a kiss. Which looked surprisingly soft and gentle. And had Dark turning around immediately to start walking back to the cove.

"Where are you going?" Wilford snickered, "Can't take a lil PDA?"

"I'm not sticking around long enough to have 'getting one's rocks off' take a literal sense."

"... Point taken."


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Eyyyy felt bad for taking so long, so have some doc x author. They're totally banging. Rn. As we speak. And I would write it. But I want this fic to nooot be, uh, tagged as explicit. Byyeee

Dark was still rubbing his throat by the time they reached the cove. Google could have crushed his windpipe if he wanted. It would have been so easy. Luckily-much to his annoyance-Wilford happened to be there. So, what? Was he supposed to thank him now? Fat chance. He'd sooner tell the Golems to crush him under their feet.

Wilford, a few feet behind him, cleared his throat. But it was only a split second before Dark shot him down. "Not in the mood, Warfstache."

"You don't even know what I was going to say!" Fair point, but Dark was in no mood for talking. 

"I just had my throat manhandled by a living pile of rocks, do forgive me if I'm not up for any friendly chit chat." It already hurt enough to speak as is. 

"Alright, then no chit chat. I'll chat, and you just listen." Looks like Dark didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Something he was entirely too used to. "I'm not-good, at this sort of thing. Getting all touchy feely and what not. Puts a real damper on the pirate gig." 

Dark scoffed. If that's what Wilford would describe this as then so be it.

"When we took the contract I wasn't expecting to bond with you. The damn target. Hell, I wasn't expecting to bond with anyone! If I'm completely honest I... I was actually-am actually... terrified. When I saw the mark." That caught his attention. Wilford, afraid? That just didn't sit right. "And not because the client would be all 'off with his head' either. I can handle that puny brat."

Puny. Bratty. That sounded familiar. 

"Then why be afraid? If the client doesn't strike fear into you, what else could it be?" Dark prompted, "Gotta give me more than that if you want me to believe this yarn you're spinning."

Wilford went quiet, really dragging his feet about this topic. "You..." He rubbed his palm, making slow circles around his scar. "Aren't exactly my first."

\--  
Author held Markus by his arms, eyes-if he could even call them that-on his hands. It felt like forever had passed before the bloody man hissed. "Knew it. Knew it."

"You know something? Want to share? As it is I'm feeling pretty in the dark here." Markus responded, bitter as he yanked himself from Author's grasp. From this close he could see the tentacles so clearly, writhing and squirming about in his eye sockets. Pitch black. Oh it was disgusting. It reminded him of leeches.

Disgusting in a way that was... also interesting. Something that made you both want to look at and away.

Author paused, hands still hovering in the air, fingers flexing around nothing. Until he frowned. "Nothing. Not important. Not right now. Save that for a better time." He cleared his throat, looking off to the side. And now Markus could make out the markings. Two hands, one on either side of the bastard's skull. From the doctor's initial examination.

He remembered being so panic stricken, dreading that he might screw things up and be tossed overboard. But once he got to work, the second he had his hands on him, he felt...

"Calm." Author mumbled, fingers barely glancing the edge of his mark. 

"What was that?" 

"Nothing, I-it... it would appear that we're... soulmates. Yes, I know. And no, I didn't know. I haven't exactly been able to look in a mirror lately, you see." Oh. Well-fuck. Author had him there. "So we're in the same boat here. Believe me, I wasn't expecting this. And I sure as hell didn't want this."

"Finally, something we have in common." Markus couldn't look straight at him. Jesus, there was so much blood.... "You're filthy." As much as he didn't want to be anywhere near him right now, his caring nature won over. Like it or not, Author was his patient. "Let's get you cleaned up." 

Author knew of the unsightly mess he was. He could see it. See. "I... I can see now..."

"You... don't sound all that happy about it." And he didn't. He didn't look it either.

"It feels like... like I've lost something. But I don't know what." Author gnawed on his lip, turning his head away when Markus reached for him with a damp cloth. He could tell what he was thinking, feeling. It wasn't anything new, he could do that without this... creature's help. And now? Now he didn't like it. Before he could turn it off, the humming. The background noise. The damned narrating. What everyone's thinking. What they're doing. Now it was constant. A hundred little voices all whispering the same thing. All in his head. 

And it felt ridiculous trying to stop it. 

Futile.

There were so many thoughts. So many emotions. All swirling around him, begging to spill from his lips. Be spoken. He once heard that if you spoke something out loud enough times that it would eventually come true. Well, for some reason he got the feeling that he was living that. Only constantly.

Markus frowned, it was clear Author was really beat up about this. And as much as he wanted to say 'I told you so' he wouldn't. This was the Author's decision. And now was not the time. "Then perhaps we can find what you've lost."

There was no response. And if he looked at Markus he couldn't tell. Not with the state those... eyes were in. He cleared his throat, continuing to clean the Author up in silence. 

He tried not to look at... at those strange tendrils. Constantly squirming about in those sockets. Sometimes pausing to take a little peek at the outside world. It was... grotesque. And oddly alluring. Interesting. Marvelous.

And suddenly Markus couldn't stop asking questions.

"Do they hurt?" "How many are there?" "Can you feel them?" "Can I feel them?" 

Author didn't know how to answer him. It was all a little overwhelming. "I'm... actually exhausted, Markus. Do you mind if I just lie down for a while?" That was a lie. He felt as spry as ever. Energized. Exuberant. He felt like he could do it all and then some. And yet, part of him felt... crummy.

"I-not at all!"

Not at all.

As the doctor helped him into bed, Author groaned. Turns out giving yourself to a parasite was very taxing on the muscles. He felt sore. 

And pathetic. To have sunk so low as to look to a parasite for aid.

"... I know you're going to make a run for it once I fall asleep." He sighed, hand thrown across his face. Blocking out the light. "I can't stop you. But you won't get far. You must know that."

"I-"

"I know you feel obligated to help me. That you have a sense of duty. That you need to make me feel better. All because I'm your stupid soulmate." He spat the words out, bitterness dripping off every vowel. Why did it have to be him? Why this irritating, cowardly, sad sack? He would have taken Bim! And that man was an actual cannibal! But at least he had a spine. It might not have been his own, but you know. He had a few. He said they made for great broth.

Markus was skittish. Careful. Too careful. A by the book type of guy. One that didn't take risks. 

Markus scoffed, dabbing a damp cloth at a splotch of blood on the pirate's chin. "You were my patient before you were my soulmate. I don't leave my patients. Believe me, I'd much rather pretend that we never had this revelation to begin with." It would have made things easier. For the both of them. Yet here they were.

Would the Author even let Markus leave now? 

What was he to do? He couldn't leave him alone like this. He looked horrible! At least he was somewhat clean now. Didn't change the fact that he could see into his damned eye sockets at those worming, squirming things. But he'd be lying if he said he wasn't purposefully trying to get himself a good look at them. 

And the Author could tell. "Fuck's sake. If you want to examine me go ahead. I'm not going to bite you." He took his arms away, sitting up a tad too fast, putting him a little too close to the doctor. Markus swallowed, he could hear it. Were his senses heightened now? He wondered what else had changed.

Markus smelled... clean. Crisp. And like... like a soup? Fresh bread and soup. Warm. Comforting. This had to be an effect of that damned bond, but he'd be lying if he said he disliked it. Much. He still wasn't warmed up to the idea.

"Are you sure-"

"Just take your damn peek already. Maybe it could be helpful. See if there are any other physical changes." He dropped the robe from his shoulders, almost standing up but a noise from Markus stopped him.

"Author you're naked!"

There was something new in the air. Something Author found, with much confusion, that he really, really liked. It was a mouthwatering scent. And it was coming right from Markus.

"And? You're a doctor. Aren't you used to that sort of thing?" Was he teasing? He was teasing. The new noise the doctor made just made him want to tease him more now.

What had gotten into him? Snap out of it, Author. You're acting like a hussy. Maybe Wilford was rubbing off on him? No... no he had a feeling it was something else.

"I mean-well of course! It's just-" he was blushing so horribly now, averting his gaze when the Author did stand-much to his protests. "Oh good heavens!"

'Cute mate.' that thought was certainly not his own. It threw him for a loop. Where had that come from? It couldn't have been from him, could it? 'He wants us. Listen to him. Such depravity.' 

"I'm your patient, aren't I? Just treat me as such. Or has this soulmate thing got you thinking different? Got your mind in the gutter?" Maybe it had his own mind in the gutter. Yeah. Maybe that was it. 

Markus sputtered, fumbling over a response that the Author could see straight through, "No! Of course not!" Could the Author see how red his cheeks were? He hoped not-and well, he certainly could, but the poor doctor didn't know that. And maybe Markus was a little mixed up now that he knew they were bonded.

'Our bond.' 

Were-

Were these the parasite's thoughts? He didn't know if he should feel sick or what. But all he was feeling, was Want.

'Want to take him. Protect. Breed.'

Markus had spent so long daydreaming about what he'd do once he found his other piece. What they'd do. And sitting here, now, with this strapping pirate nude in front of him. Who just so happened to be his soulmate? And they were alone? Together? Not to mention that hatred he had felt earlier, now he was wondering if that was being made into some sort of, ah, tension.

And hell, who didn't have the odd fantasy or two about being ravaged by a handsome pirate?

'Ours.'

It was all a little overwhelming. Especially now that the Author was leaning towards him-

He snapped out of his thoughts, thoughts he didn't know could be read and we're still being read. Not that Author could control that, not now anyways. 

'Our mate. Always ours. Never leave.'

"You're adorable." Author squeezed Markus' shoulders. "I still detest you. But if a quick roll around in the hay is what it's going to take to get you to stop being such a nervous wreck around me, then sure." He seemed a little too quick to offer that solution, was it something he did on the regular? To get people to wind down? Markus didn't know how to feel about that.

"What?! Who said my attraction towards you had anything to do with how-you're a bloody pirate! Who kidnapped me! The only reason I'm nervous is because you... you could easily... have me... have me killed!" His posture relaxed, growing slack with the pressure on his shoulders. "You-you're really good with your hands. Wow."

"I have been told I give a mean shoulder massage." And it was a damn fine one. Or Markus was so knotted up that anything Author did felt divine.

Author's face felt hot. His entire body felt like you could fry an egg on him. He was flushed. 

"Don't-didn't you want to talk to me? About something?" That was right! The Author had wanted to speak with him. But the bond had distracted him. What was it that he wanted to talk about? He couldn't remember. Or rather, something inside him thought that this development was much more important.

'More important. Yes. Breed our mate.'

"Huh, I can't remember... but I can remember having a bottle of oil in my coat pocket." He grinned, patting his chest. "Why don't you fetch it for me? Hm? Then we can work out aaaall of those nerves of yours."

'Yesssss!'

The doctor weighed his options-and he could only do that for so long. He hardly knew this man, yet they were soulmates. And he was an attractive pirate. This was like a scene from one of his erotic novels he was so into. How could he turn down an offer like this?

Was Author really going to let some horny parasite control him into bedding the doctor?... Yes. 

"Fine. But I know you're not expecting me to do any of the catching here."

"I'm sorry-what?" Talk about a curve ball. The Author was in for it now. And maybe, just maybe, he might have been wrong about Markus. Maybe he did have some guts after all.


End file.
